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smutoperator · 1 year ago

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Versace On The Floor

Ning Yizhuo (Ningning) x Male Reader

Tags: anal, armpit licking, ball throating, creampie, crying, fashion, feet worship/footjob, (lots of) floor sex, mirror fucking, mouth gag, photoshoot, prone bone, rough but romantic, (lots of) screaming, spitting, throatpie, water play

Word count: 6569.

Shanghai, China, October 18th, 2023

Versace had been searching for a new ambassador for the very important East Asia market. They already had their pick set in mind: a short girl from Harbin, China, going by the name of Ning Yizhuo, also known by her cute stage name of Ningning. They had already been scouting her for a few months and even sent her some of the brand's clothes and accessories for her to test. It truly seemed like a perfect fit, but they needed a few extra tests.

Ningning was invited to Versace's icon dinner, taking place in Shanghai. They were aware of her potential and wanted to make sure she would sign her contract in her home country of China over her workplace in Korea. But before she was going to attend the dinner, they told her she had a photoshoot to make.

"Perfect, amazing pose." You were the photographer for Ningning's photoshoot. Her ability to model truly impressed you. Truth be told, while Ningning was only a few days away from turning 21, she had a long baggage of training and had proven to be a true ace. There was no art she wasn't unable to craft, and modeling seemed pretty easy for Harbin's ice princess.

Ningning was so stunning, you felt like your pics weren't doing her beauty justice. The lens of the camera just couldn't capture how beautiful she was. Regardless, the Versace team supervising the photoshoot seemed to have largely approved your pics, even though you felt a bit underwhelmed and thought you could do much better.

The photoshoot was successfully wrapped up, but there were still a few hours before her dinner was going to start. The rest of the Versace staff left, but they instructed you to stay alone with her, giving you instructions on what to do to Ningning next. You then communicated it to her: "They want to make you a global ambassador, but they told me you need to pass some tests before becoming one."

"What kind of tests?" Ningning asked, a little confused but willing to grab such a unique opportunity. "They are, let's say, a little naughty," you replied, still a little embarrassed and not believing the task they gave you. "Naughty? What kind of naughty?" she asked.

"Sit, and I will show you," you told her. Ningning obliged, sitting on the chair where you had just taken pictures of her. Then you gave her the command, "But this time, instead of crossing your legs, I'll need you to spread them." "Ok," Ningning replied, still a little embarrassed as well.

You dove under Ningning's stunning Versace black dress, pulling her panties to the side and unveiling her butterfly-shaped pussy. "What are you doing?" she says, shocked. "It's part of the test; just stay calm," you reply. Ningning feels a bit wierded out at first with your tongue licking her folds, which are just as pretty as the rest of her body, but slowly eases up as you continue to move under her dress and touch her thighs.

"Get up, take your panties off, and go to the mirror," you tell Ningning, who obliges. You place a gag in her little mouth as Ningning faces the mirror. "Versace's next Global Ambassador is right here; she only needs to pass this test and be a good girl to me," you tease her, giving Ningning a massage right at her boob area with her dress still on. "You're gonna need new makeup for the dinner; this one is going to be ruined soon," you threaten her. Ningning looks a little scared but also very excited, wondering what is coming next.

You reach under Ningning's dress and start fingering her pussy nice and slowly. Even with the gag in her mouth, you can still hear her moaning nasally. "Shhhh," you ask her not to moan that much as your right hand now pinches her tits while the left one remains working on Ningning's pussy. "Your moans are so classy, I think you're a perfect fit for the brand," you tell Ningning as you put extra heat in her pussy, making her knee bend a little.

You pinch Ningning's pussy lips. "They look like wings from a butterfly," you say as you spread them out, and they get a lot of your attention. You then lift Ningning's arms up and turn her around, looking at her perfect doll face as you start licking her perfect and clean armpits. Every inch of her body is perfect, indeed. You give Ningning's right armpit some hard licks. "Oh shit," she says under the mouth gag as you search towards her most sensitive zones.

You never take your attention out of Ningning's pussy, fingering it harder, which makes her moan louder. "You look like such a great fuckdoll," you tell her as you now move to her left armpit, with a pair of fingers now penetrating inside her pussy. You aggressively lick her pits before lowering her bra straps, unveling Ningning's soft and ripe tits, which you promptly suck like a baby.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH OHHHHHHHHHHH~," Ningning lets out many high note moans as you move fast between her pair of boobs while putting lots of heat inside her pussy, as you know, with three fingers penetrating her vagina, leading her to scream endlessly. As you finish the finger-fucking session, Ningning rests her head against the mirror, drained by your overstimulation. You take your hands out of her pussy and let her juices pour right into her mouth, but only teasing her as it's still covered by the gag. Instead, you put your hand inside your own mouth and taste them, following it with a torrid kiss on Ningning's covered mouth.

"Whore, whore," you keep repeating to Ningning as you spit on her tits and slowly move down her body, lifting her dress and ducking your head under her pussy, licking it and sniffing it as hard as you can. She smells really good; to a point, it sends you to the heavens. Your sloppy tongue spits all over her folds as Ningning lowers her head to watch you eat her out from up top. "That clit is so fucking hard already," you tell her, as queefing noises come out of her pussy.

You spit on Ningning's pussy as you finish your cunt-eating session, turning her around and pinning her against the mirror, already with a new target in sight as you start tonguing her asshole. Just like with her pussy, you're impressed by its cleanliness. Class, etiquette, and hygiene—Ningning seems to indeed check all the boxes for Versace. Your mouth feasts on Ningning's anus as she continues to moan like a whore, filling the mirror with the steam of her breath.

Ningning's asshole is so tight, tastes so good, and has such a great smell that it makes you go feral. You bark like a dog as you move your tongue up and down her anal folds. Her moans are all you need to know why she's so well regarded as a vocalist, as they are loud, stable, and hit some of the hardest notes. "Whoa," Ningning says as you lift her little body up, grabbing her by the legs and placing her high heels in your thighs as you continue to eat her ass while she clings to the mirror to not fall down.

But as things continue to go on, Ningning takes on a more active role. Sensing how much you like her ass, she starts bouncing it in the air while you tongue it. You quickly try to restablish your dominance, pinning Ningning back while she reaches her hand to now be the one caressing your ass. You sniff her black hair, and just like everything else in her, it smells amazing. "Good girl, I want to hear your beautiful voice," you tell her, taking the gag out of her mouth. Ningning lets out a radiant smile as soon as you do it.

You tongue-kiss Ningning, and she quickly answers, turning her head to face you and interlocking both your lips. You grab her neck a bit, but let her take the initiative as she blows you away with how good of a kisser she is. Is there anything this girl can't do?. "I can't wait to fuck the shit out of you," you whisper in her ear between more and more torrid kisses. You choke Ningning as she fills the mirror with fog from her breath. "Look at this whore," you tell her. "Perfect to get pounded until she gets her global ambassador title," you continue as you spit on the mirror, leading Ningning to put her tongue out and lick it immediately. More kisses ensue. Good god, just Ningning's tongue is already sending shockwaves all over your body. You wonder what's going to happen when you actually start fucking her.

Your belt gets unhooked in a snap, and your urge to have Ningning, please, takes your already throbbing cock to the next level. You tie your belt to Ningning's neck and tell her, "You're my pet now.". "Yes, be my owner, and I'll be your fucking bitch," she says. "Then get on your knees," you reply as you take your pants off, and your hard cock immediately springs out of them. Ningning doesn't need any commands, as she already starts licking the sides of your shaft before inserting that throbbing meat in her mouth.

Ningning can't stop moaning even while sucking cock, as she also imprints her long nails all over your crotch. You respond by choking her a little bit more with your belt. Ningning pins her head against the mirror and starts sucking you off with her hands behind her back. She was truly like those A+ students who can ace any evaluation you throw at them. "You like it?" you asked her. "Yes, I fucking love it; it's so meaty and tastes so fucking good," she replied.

"Open your mouth; let me see how much you love it," you ask Ningning, who quickly follows. At first, you barely put half of your shaft in before shoving your full length inside Ningning's tiny gloryhole. "This one will go so deep I'll make you cry," you bragged, but Ningning resisted, instead engulfing your whole sword down her throat. You kept forcing it, but it took a long time before she finally gagged.

"So that's how I assume you already do your throat training," you mocked her. "I wanna see you cry like a whore," you kept going, but Ningning was insanely strong. You knew you needed much more to break the ice princess than shoving a girthy microphone down her throat. You sloppily fucked Ningning's face to get your cock wetter, but she barely bulged except for a couple gags. Even after pressing your whole weight against her face and shoving your balls inside her mouth as well, she still stayed put against your attacks. Ningning was a good fuckdoll, but she was no pushover.

"Bite me," you asked Ningning, who left a huge mark in your left hand with her teeth. Ningning barked as she bit you as hard as she could, like an untamed pet who doesn't have any owners. Her face was that of a girl who would do anything to become the next Versace girl, and you knew it. You had to slap her in the face to prevent your order from backfiring and have her leave your fingers bleeding.

"So now you're crying," you told Ningning as you saw tears flow down her eyes following a few slaps you gave her doll-esque face. "Should have done it earlier," you reprimanded her as you grabbed her by the neck and sat on top of her before switching back to romantic kisses and giving her tits a little caressing. That didn't last long, though, as you grabbed Ningning by the hair and dragged her down the floor on her knees like your pet, making her fall down. As soon as she did, you spanked her ass. "Bad whore," you said. "You need to be punished.".

You placed your fingers on both of Ningning's bottom holes, as your index and middle fingers penetrated her pussy while your thumb penetrated her asshole. "You know what? There is something much better to do," you say as you put your cock on Ningning's pussy in one go. "AHHHHHHH. AHHHHHH. AHHHHH," she immediately screams as you pin her body to the floor, going rough on her but at the same time very passionate, as you kiss Ningning to the rhythm of your pumps inside her vagina.

"Holy shit, you fuck my pussy so good, oh God," Ningning praises you. But truth be told, she's the one who deserves all the praise. You just go hard because you know she can take it, and holy shit she does it like a pro. You thurst full speed in and out of it, and Ningning loves every second of it, but especially every inch of it stratching her out. As you finish the first round of fucking her beautiful butterfly pussy, you give her ass a tap and leave her lying on the floor, staring at her sexy fuckholes.

Ningning gets up and crawls in your direction. The hard floor is nothing for someone who is always banging those strong knees on dance practices every day. You sit on the floor as well, as she starts taking your shoes off. As soon as she does, you nearly kick her in the face; her reflexes save her from it. In fact, you wanted to make her sniff your dirty socks as punishment, and soon enough, she did. You go even further, shoving your toes into Ningning's whore mouth. "I want to see if you can sing with those now," you laugh.

As Ningning takes your sock off, she ends up falling for your trap, with you tying them around her mouth. "Shut the fuck off and obey your master," you say as you kiss her with your socks in her mouth, before spitting on her face and then putting the other sock inside her hole. "Are you my pet?" you ask. Ningning just nods positively. You continue to tie her up, as now you fully wrap your belt around her neck.

You plow Ningning's pussy from behind as she tries to scream even with her mouth completely shut off. Her nipples scrape the floor as they bounce each time you pound her. "Shut up, little cunt," you tell her as you dive her head to the floor. But Ningning is incapable of obeying. Her mouth was born to sing, and she does it a lot, even while getting stretched out by a big, meaty cock while pinned to the floor. "Fucking whore, fucking whore," you repeat as you remove one of the socks and now try to fuck her mouth with the other sock still inside it, stretching Ningning's tight singing hole to the maximum.

As you free Ningning's mouth, you keep spitting on her. This time, you try to tame her by shoving your balls in her mouth, but she takes it with no issue, wrapping her tongue all over them. "If you like to use that tongue so much than eat my asshole," you order to her. Ningning dives her mouth into your dirty anus as you masturbate yourself watching her lick it clean. " Finally acting like a good whore, cleaning your photographer's asshole," you "praise" her.

You lock Ningning's head around your neck, making her sniff your butthole even harder. Despite your sweatiness and dirtiness, she keeps it cool and continues to lick it. You try to make it harder on her as you jiggle your ass all over her face. "Now you're the dirty whore I wanted," you say, but that only leads to Ningning sticking her tongue even deeper in your anus.

You get up and grab her hair once again, dragging your little pet towards the chair where Ningning once sat like a queen on her throne. This time, however, she kneels on it with her ass up as you spank her again. You lick her butthole as Ningning spreads her legs a little on the chair. "FUUUUUCK," she moans as you stick your middle finger up her tight butthole. While you may try to treat Ningning like a useless whore, the truth is that you in fact worship her, as you literally turn into her ass kisser, giving her tiny little ring kiss after kiss and praising its tightness.

"Let me get in there," you say as your finger and mouth are soon replaced by something much bigger as you grab Ningning's cheeks and start fucking her ass. She moans like she usually does, even better now with no restraints in her mouth. Her anus is so tight that after a few pumps, you have to pull it out and then struggle to come back as you keep missing it. Ningning has to come to your aid as she lifts her left leg to give you an easy entrance to her asshole.

Ningning feels the burn as you push deeper into her tiny bumhole, but her eyes are full of lust, and she keeps telling you to push harder. "Fuck, you're so fucking tight in there," you tell her as she moans close to your face. You let Ningning close her legs and wrap your cock like a hot dog sausage as she moves her hips up and down your shaft for you to watch before you surprise her with the deepest insertion yet.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH OH MY GOOOOODDDDDDDDDDD," Ningning screams to the top of your lungs. This is truly the first time you see her voice crack. You punish her by going even deeper and giving her already red face an extra spank, as she starts begging for God at each pump you give deep inside her asshole. "FUCKKKKKKK. AHHHHHHH. YESSS!" she continues to scream. She's been told to be like this, always expressing her emotions through her voice.

"Oh shit, the way you scream is so sexy," you tell her, pushing her head closer to yours as you keep stretching her ass. Ningning just can't stop. At this point, you are just relieved that you decided to have the photoshoot in a more isolated building, because otherwise thousands of people would hear her screaming.

"I fucking love you; I want to fuck you until you lose your voice," you tell Ningning as you keep going harder and harder in her butthole. "Scream for me, you fucking bitch," you tell her as you spank her ass five consecutive times. Ningning instead opts for her sexy moans before she has to cling onto the chair as you keep shaking it left and right.

"Bad girl," you tell Ningning as you put her on her knees. She jiggles her ass and masturbates your pole before you insert it back deep in her hole, moaning a lot in between. "Don't move," you demand as you spank her now completely red butt, and she rests her head on the top of the chair. "Say you're my toy," you demand of her. "I'm your toy; I'm your toy," she repeats using her aegyo voice. "Then feel that cock," you tell her, grabbing her ass and pumping inside Ningning's anus slowly and deeply. You hit the perfect spots as she beautifully moans.

You grab Ningning by the belt around her neck, treating her like she is your dog. Her face is now redder than her cheeks as she closes her eyes. "Yes, treat me like your toy. AH. AH. AH. FUCKKKKKKK," she keeps saying. "Let me see that face." You push her closer to you as Ningning continues to scream. "Shhhhhh," you tell her, but she ignores your claims for silence, screaming even harder each time you hit deep in her asshole.

You had enough of Ningning screaming and put your belt on her mouth. To no avail. You can only muffle it, but Ningning keeps yelling as if she were at a singing competition. "AHHHHHHHHHH," she yells. You grab Ningning by her arm and keep fucking her hard in the ass; she can't stop screaming. Her legs tremble as she puts her right one in the air, barely able to hold herself with the hard speed of your poundings.

Ningning looks tired as you remove the belt from her mouth. But you are far from done, pushing her little body back to the floor. "Ride me," you demand as you push Ningning back up and sit on the chair where you just obliterated her. "YES. YES. YES!" she screams as she spreads her legs, and you put your cock back in her ass and the belt back in her mouth, trying to resist as you push your big meat up her butthole. "FUCK. Oh God!" she screams, even if it's muffled by the belt.

You free Ningning from the belt as she gets her eyes destroyed, taking the belt off again. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!" she instantly screams as you do it. Her little body is very easy to place under a full Nelson, as her legs are now spread at a 120-degree angle, and your arms lock her as you grab Ningning by her head. Ningning has to start fingering herself as you quickly move into stimulating her tits, but never lifting the gas off and fucking her ass every single time.

You have to slow down not to cum as you move an already tired Ningning into the table to the side of the chair, still with your prick inside her ass. She screams as her face stares at the floor while you destroy her tiny hole and mount on top of her as if she were just a useless cow. You have to bring the other chair to rest her head on, as she keeps yelling. Ningning's face turns red after so much screaming, but you shut it once again, this time with her mouth. She is a mess that can only hope that all this rough session is enough for her to become the next Versace girl as you destroy her asshole in a rough prone bone.

"DAMN FUCK!" Ningning screams as you show no mercy towards her, having to push her head against the chair to endure the endless fucking. She pants hard, and her face is now redder than a tomato as your roughness gives way to some passionate kisses. "You're the best girl I've ever fucked," you gently tell her as you put your thumb in her mouth and fully top her, your cock still buried deep in her ass. Ningning never looked so sore, but she also loves how intensely you fuck her.

After a little rest, you come full force to pound her tight ass, this time stomping all over her little doll head. Her butt gets spanked, her tits press against the chair, and she's completely pinned like a submissive whore. "AHHHHHHH FUCK!" she screams once again as you replace your fast thrusts and move to slow but very deep hits inside her butthole, inserting your thick cock balls deep inside her.

"Stay there," you tell Ningning as your rough session ends. She moans and pants as her body stays on the chair. Your spanks turned her fully red, and her legs barely moved. You keep looking at her, pondering your next move, until you decide to once again grab her by the hair. You really like how good it looks, despite how messy she is right now. You're kind and give her some water to drink before feeding her your cock, making a splash inside her mouth. You keep this weird mix of water and sausage, giving Ningning a little more as a reward for sucking it good, despite having her mouth already full.

Ningning bursts the water on your cock as you insert it deep in her throat. Despite all the rough pounding, she can still take a big one in her mouth with ease. Maybe you just haven't broken that doll enough. As you finally empty the bottle and fuck her face a couple times, you two now get on your knees and passionately kiss each other on the floor.

You put your washed cock back on Ningning's tight cunt, letting her do the riding this time. Ningning doesn't look as strong as before, as her bounces initially only get half of your length inside her pussy, but she quickly adjusts to take it deeper despite her very sore hole up top that winks every time she gets to the base of your shaft. You give her butt a little slap, and she answers, increasing the pace. Her screams are now fully back, and despite her tiredness, she still manages not to crack.

"Good girl," you praise Ningning's ride as she slides straight down your pole, then tilts her body down to let you spank her even further. The redder you turn her snowy skin, the better. "I want you to cum all over that cock," you tell her as she steadily bounces on it. After a few screams, Ningning stops and sits with your shaft fully inside her, letting out her orgasmic moans as her pussy clenches all over your meat. Ningning goes insane, making the chair move a lot as she twists and turns while riding your cock.

You give Ningning very passionate kisses and grab her by the waist as she gets closer to you. "I love you, I love you," she says, never stopping her bounce. "Then cum all over me," you demand of her, who screams as her pussy creams your cock with juices. You rest your back on the chair as Ningning is now in a straight position, bouncing on your dick, while you grab her by the belt wrapped around her neck. "Keep going; ride me like a little toy," you tell her. Ningning beautifully moves up and down your shaft as you grab her waist.

You make it harder on Ningning, spanking every inch of her body like she's just a ragdoll. Belly. Pussy. Face. Nothing can escape your heavy hands. But your favorite target are her bouncy tits. "Oh yes," she screams as you land a heavy hit on her boobs before groping them. "Oh my God, what a fucking whore!" you say to her. Ningning moans as you move close to her to give her more kisses. Every time you treat her rough, you compensate, showing how much you love her. And she knows, wrapping her arms around you like a cute girl who only wants to feel loved.

Without ever leaving her pussy, you move the kissing session elsewhere by pushing Ningning back to where she belongs, the cold, hard floor. You top her on a torrid missionary, giving her pussy slow pumps as you continue to interlock your lips with hers. Ningning licks her chops as you press her whole body to the floor and kisses her neck while fucking her passionately, spreading her legs as you deeply mate her, rocking your hips sideways as her moans get more and more out of breath.

Ningning holds her hands against the chair as you now move around her tits, kissing and sucking them multiple times. After a few more kisses in her mouth, you switch to a fast pace as clapping sounds come out every time you pound her pussy. "YES, LIKE THAT, LIKE THAT," she yells as you hit her cunt hard, sticking her tongue out as you spit in her mouth and go back to treat her like a fuckdoll.

You find some love for her armpits, licking them once more and adding them to your spitting session, but what you like the most is spitting on her face, showing your disapproval of how much of a slut she is. "That fucking cunt is so tight," you tell her as you keep pounding her. Ningning keeps yelling as you pick up the pace, pounding her against the floor like nothing.

You put her legs up in the air and play with her asshole, going in and out of it to tease her. "YEAH. FUCK!" she screams as you keep doing it before surprising her with fast pumps in her gaped butthole. "Oh yeah, fuck!" Ningning screams as you grab her left thigh. "Open that ass," you demand of her as she spreads her sore cheeks and shows her huge gape. Her holes wink as you go back in, groping her tits, choking her, and treating her roughly as she remains lying on the floor.

Ningning gets obliterated on the floor as you keep fucking her mercilessly. "AHHH!" she yells, her body bouncing at each thrust. You start fingering her pussy and put her upside down. "OH MY GOD. What?" she asks as juices flow out of her wet vagina and her legs tremble, making her scream even further: "FUCKKKKKKK". You apply so much pressure to her pussy she collapses back on the floor, yelling as she orgasms and her body twists and turns. You drag her body across the floor and then massage her tits as she cums.

You put Ningning back upside down to torture her pussy even further, putting all your fingers inside of it and massaging her hole. Ningning lets out a perfect high note as you make her cum, and her hole gets even wetter. You spink her at the floor and turn her dizzy, her only reacting the way she knows best: screams and more screams.

Ningning once again gets fucked hard against the floor, but this time it's her mouth that gets your throbbing cock going in and out of it at full speed. You don't even look at her, just treating her like a bunch of fuckholes that are only there to please your cock. You shut her throat down, having enough of her screams, which come as soon as you free her mouth for a little second. But Ningning wants more, as she sucks your big dick on the floor before you react by sitting your whole weight against her doll face and putting your cock back in her mouth.

"Choke on it, bitch," you tell her as your balls also go inside her mouth. She tries to push up, but you slap her in the face. "I told you to choke on it," you say as you punish her. This time, you drag her by her knees and send her back to the mirror. You two made a mess a while ago. "Look how dirty it is; I think a whore got in there," you say as Ningning pants and licks the mirror. The mouth gag goes back in her mouth as you want her to watch herself get destroyed.

"Shhhhh," you tell her as you get close to her body. Ningning looks into the mirror as she sees your devilish face, ready to fuck her even harder. You wrap your hands around her pussy and then let her wrap your hands around your cock, grinding on it. Soon, her hands are tied behind her back, and she watches herself look like a mess in the mirror.

"Look at you, Versace's next slut," you prank her as your hands go back to massage her butterfly-shaped pussy. Ningning reacts and matches your moves down low, jerking your cock off. "Do you love me?" you ask her as she nods positively. "Now you do. I took it all the way; you should love me. Because what I tell Donatella will be what is going to decide your future with the brand," you say, taking the gag off Ningning's mouth and kissing her passionately as tears flow out of her eyes.

"Don't cry. You're a good girl," you tell her, as she can only pant and massage your cock, nothing else. But she doesn't listen and continues to cry. "I'm going to miss you after you're gone," you tell her. Ningning hasn't looked this emotional since all her hard work paid off and she was selected to debut for Aespa. She loves you too, and she's ready to join the Versace family. "After we are done, I'll think of you every day. We haven't even finished, but I already missed you." You continue to proclaim your love for Ningning, the most beautiful girl you've ever seen.

"I fucking love you, and I'm gonna show it," you say as you pin Ningning back against the mirror and put your cock back in her pussy. Just like earlier, she instinctively holds her hands against it, letting out a crying moan as you insert your cock back in her already used-up hole. You go slow, letting her enjoy each thrust your veiny pole gives her pussy to the fullest. Ningning's tears suddenly turn into a smile as you show your love for her with faster and faster poundings.

"YES. YES. YES. YES. YES. YES." she wholeheartedly approves as you fuck her in front of the mirror, her high heels stomping the floor each time you hit deep in her pussy. "You're mine," you tell her as she closes her eyes and goes back to her beautiful screams, the image of her doing it in the mirror looking amazing. You keep telling Ningning she's yours as you grab her arms and place them behind her back, with her just trying to keep her balance on top of her heels.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" Ningning screams the hardest as you treat her like a sex doll, fucking her like there is no tomorrow. Her body shakes, and she almost falls down. As soon as you stop, you turn her around and kiss her instantly. But you're very opportunistic, taking advantage of her passion and lust to drop her back to the floor like a ragdoll. "Lick your master's feet if you really love me," you tell her as your fetishes get sicker and sicker, and Ningning obliges, her body lying back on the hard floor as she worships your toes.

You once again do your favorite thing for her: drag her tiny body across the floor by her pretty hair. Ningning looks weaker than ever; you now have full control over her. You finally take her heels off, taking your turn to worship her feet. Amazingly, just like everything in her, they smell like roses. Ningning gets so excited that she shoves her left foot in your mouth, and you don't punish her for it; the deeper the better.

You wrap Ningning's legs around your neck and draw her body close to yours as she slides on the floor. You too continue to hotly kiss each other as she slides further and puts your cock back in her pussy, her ass frictioning against the floor as she moves up and down your shaft while giving little sexy out-of-breath moans to your face.

Suddenly, you take back control and hump your ass against the floor to fuck her. "Oh yes, oh yes," Ningning approves, as she has now nearly lost her voice. She no longer screams, only whispers. As you grab her neck, you give her more declarations of love while never losing sight of her tight pussy. "I love you, my little butterfly," you tell her as you wrap your arms around her leg and pound her pussy faster. As Ningning regains her strength to yell, you put your arms in her mouth. "Bite them if you love me," you demand. And she does all that while still letting out her classic muffled screams.

Ningning looks completely wasted and exhausted as she collapses on the floor. But she still wants your cock as she wraps her feet around your shaft and uses them to jerk you off. What a naughty girl. She just holds herself to the chair's legs and extends her body on the floor, moving those beautiful feet up and down that big cock. You just enjoy the perfect view of her tiny naked body while she does it, holding the urge not to shoot your cum all over it as her little footjob massage puts you on the edge.

"Fuck, yes," you approve of Ningning's footjob. But you need not lose sight of her as you push her back close to you and put her in a spooning position. "Come here," you tell her. Ningning's tongue is completely out of her mouth, indicating how tired she is. Her efforts to gasp for air make her tits move a lot as you just give her pussy some slow and deep pumps, waiting for her to recover.

"Finish inside me, please," Ningning begs as you lift her left leg and pound her wide open pussy. She starts cooing like a baby at each thrust you give her, harder and harder poundings. Ningning's pussy clenches all over your cock as she waits for you to coat her insides with cum. After nearly an hour of fucking this ice-cold beauty, you're now tired too, taking some pauses to hiss her and look at her beautiful but now super messy face.

You caress Ningning as tears of joy flow out of her eyes, tenderly placing your hands and running them over her now ultra-red skin. You go very slowly, letting her kisses heat you up. As you regain your strength to fuck her hard, she senses you getting closer: "YES, YES, YES, PLEASE CUM ALL OVER MY PUSSY," she screams. You detach a little from Ningning to take one final look at her perfect body as you grab her legs and attack her pussy at full speed.

"OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD," Ningning screams as her vaginal walls smash your cock, soon leading to your pulsating member finally giving in and filling her pussy to the brim. Her body shakes on the floor as your cum flows out of her hole, and both of you collapse after such an exhilarating hour of intense sex, staying there for a couple seconds. As Ningning finally manages to go back on her knees, you feed your still-hard cock into her mouth, balls deep. Her warm mouth and your insatiable desire for her make it explode again, filling her throat with your warm load as well. Ningning gets fully emotional and cries as you hug her and kiss her cum-filled mouth for one last time, which you hope isn't the last.

"Welcome to the Versace family, Ningning. But even better, welcome to my world," you tell her as the security staff tells you to leave. "Your time is up," they tell you.

Ningning takes a long shower and gets ready for the dinner. It goes perfectly. She leaves an amazing impression on the whole Versace family. They know what she did in that room. You have already briefed them. But Ningning is not aware of it.

The months go by. Versace gets even closer to her during Aespa's comeback, with her constantly wearing their clothes. But her promotion seems to have never come. That is, until she receives a notification from Donatella herself, telling Ningning she'll be their next global ambassador.

After so much effort, Ningning is finally one of the Versace superestars, and as she arrives at Milan Fashion Week, a familiar face is there to greet her.

"Meet your new personal photographer, Ningning. Well, I think you know him already."

#ningning smut #aespa smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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topguncortez · 5 months ago

Text

Sunburn - K. Dutton

whumptober masterlist || previous day

prompt: Heatstroke

synopsis: The Montana summers weren't for the weak. You and Kayce have unspoken history.

warnings: heatstroke, passing out, vomiting, mentions of abuse, mentions of drug usage, mentions of running away, Monica and Tate don't exist.

word count: 2.1k

There was something about Montana summers.

The valley in which the Yellowstone ranch laid, had its fair share of weather changes. The winters were brutal, feet of snow coating the land, the wind bitter against the skin making it hard to want to get up in the morning and do chores. Spring usually brought inches upon inches of rain, damn near flooding the place and making it a muddy mess trying to move cattle in preparation for breeding season. Fall was a vibrant display of changing leaves, and the scent of fields being harvested in time before the first frost.

But the summers, the summers were something else. Blame global warming, or whatever you wanted, but the summers in Montana were hot and steamy. The sun was unforgiving most days, beating down on you and your horse as you worked from sunup till sundown, training and cleaning horse stalls, helping move cattle from pasture to pasture, and carrying out the daily maintenance of the ranch. Most of the cowboys didn’t have an issue, but you on the other hand, never quite got along with the heat.

It was supposed to be an “easy day”, Rip had barked at all of you as you shuffled into the barn to get tack up your horses, but the sun was already blaring its god awful rays down on the earth. Your skin felt sticky from the humidity and your hair was already sticking to your forehead underneath your hat. You left your water jug in the bunkhouse, choosing to fuel your body with the dark roast coffee Loyd had made instead.

“You think the Devil just walked up here and decided to fuck with the temperature,” Ryan said, sitting on top of the fence, watching you and Colby rake it out.

“Don’t know,” Colby grunted, “Think you could quit fucking complaining and help?”

“I don’t want to melt,” Ryan chirped back and you rolled your eyes. The two of them fought like an old married couple most days.

Colby and Ryan were the first two to make you feel welcome in the bunkhouse. It was hard walking into a house full of men, no one knowing who you are or what you had shown up at the ranch for. Everyone knew bits and pieces of your story, you had known Kayce when you were younger, highschool sweethearts or something of the sort. He was the one who got away, or so you had said. While he was thriving in the military, you were left behind, struggling and doing anything you could to make a buck. You had shown up on his doorstep, soaking wet in the rain and begging for a job, begging to finally leave behind the life you had created for yourself. Kayce barely gave you the time of day, telling you to walk back down the road, take a left, and keep going until you reach the bunkhouse, that there would be someone there to help you. Since then, you and Kayce had been walking on eggshells around each other.

“Okay, Princess,” You rolled your eyes, lifting your hat slightly off your head, and wiping away the sweat, “It’s fucking hot.” You stared at the heat waves rippling off of the earth for a moment, as the familiar sound of cowboy boots crunching on the gravel drew close.

“What up, boss man,” Kolby greeted Kayce with a nod of his head, “Come to sweat with the worst of us?”

“No, I need the girl,” Kayce said gruffly, and you turned to look at him, “We’re moving cattle. Let’s go,” He turned and walked back the direction he came without another word. You scoffed, throwing the pitchfork down.

“What a fucking douche,” You grumbled, but went and followed after him to where the horses were enjoying the cool air of the barn. Kayce’s horse, of course, was already saddled up. You weren’t about to ask him for help as you grabbed your saddle from the wall, and walked down to your horse’s stall. You could feel his impatient tension like an extra cloud of heat in the air.

“Ready?” Kayce asked as you walked your horse down the barn alley, and you nodded, silently following him outside.

The two of you rode in silence for most of the journey, slowly but surely pushing cattle from one pasture into another. You weren’t sure why you, of all the people on the Yellowstone Ranch, had to be the one out here, sweating with Kayce. Normally, you wouldn’t have minded the silent rides through the rolling fields, but it wasn’t just the heat making you not want to be out here.

Kayce thought that asking you to come out here with him would be the perfect chance to tell you how he felt. He, just as much as you, was tired of the awkward dance that you had been doing since you showed up. He didn’t need to ask too many questions that night when you came knocking on his door, soaked to the bone, nothing more than skin and bones. When he left for the Navy, a mere days after graduation and breaking your heart, he had asked Beth to keep an eye out for you. Begrudgingly, she did so, and told him about the shift in your life. You had always dreamed of getting out of Montana, but you never made it that far.

Every time Kayce thought of saying something, of apologizing or even just asking how you have been, his mouth went dry and his mind blank. Instead, he thought that maybe even getting you near would break some of the tension, but he was so wrong. It seemed as if the tension had picked up a notch as the two of you rode next to each other.

“Fuck, is it hotter out here, or is it just me,” You mumbled as you sat on top of your horse. The body heat from the animal was soaking into you, paired with the brutal beatdown from the sun, your skin felt like it was physically burning.

“Complainin’ ain’t gonna make the sun go away,” Kayce said back and you rolled your eyes. The last thing you needed was the sass from him. Your skin felt dry and your head was pounding. All you wanted was to feel the cold stream of water in the bunkhouse shower.

— — —

You had never felt so happy to have your feet back on the ground. Three hours sitting up on a horse in the sun, slowly moving cattle into a new pasture. You knew that your shoulders were horribly sunburnt, and the sweat stains in between your thighs from sitting on the saddle made it look like you wet yourself.

Kayce felt happy too, to be back on solid ground. He would be lying if he said the heat hadn’t gotten to him either. He was used to being in hot temp areas, but he would take being in full kit in Afghanistan versus sitting on a horse waiting for cattle to hurry up and move. Kayce had taken his horse back to the barn, carefully taking the tack off of him and hanging it up. He told Loyd to give the animal a good wash down, wanting to make sure his horse was cooled down before being put away for the night.

Kayce slowly made his way down the alley of the barn, stopping just right outside of your horse’s stall. He had been thinking of what he was going to say to you since the moment he got you alone out in the field. The two of you had yet to have “the talk” since you arrived months ago, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without it. Every time he saw you, the words that he wanted to say were right at the tip of his tongue, but the second you looked at him, they all seemed to go blank. But now, it was as good a time as any.

“Y/N,” Kayce said, stepping into the horse stall. You stood by your horse, your hand on its belly, back facing Kayce, “We need to talk.”

You blinked a couple of times, trying to stop the black spots floating in your vision, and trying to keep yourself up right. You felt like your knees could give out at any moment.

“Y/N?” Kayce called out. He reached out to touch your shoulder, as you doubled over and vomited into the hay sheddings, “Holy shit,” Kayce moved quickly, rushing to you as your legs gave out and you collapsed in his arms. He was alarmed by the flush color of your skin, and your chapped lips. Your eyes looked glossed over as you looked up at Kayce.

“I-I don’t feel,” Your words were slurred as Kayce hoisted you up in his arms.

“I know, we gotta cool you down,” Kayce said to you, and you weakly nodded your head.

Kayce moved you quickly to the bunkhouse, the first flash of cool air made you instantly shiver. He walked you to the bathroom, and you were thankful that the house seemed to be quiet, not wanting any of the other cowboys to see you like this. It was hard enough being one of the only females here, you didn’t need this to be held over your head. Kayce gently sets you down on the shower tile, reaching above you and barely turning the water on. The second the cold water hit your skin, you gasped.

“No! No!” You cried.

“It’s okay,” Kayce cooed, “I have to cool you down.”

“Please,” Tears were welling in your vision, and you weren’t really sure why you were crying. You summed it up to your body being in such shock, you didn’t have control over your emotions.

“It’s okay,” Kayce said again, running a hand up and down your back as you leaned into him, feeling your body grow weak again, “You’re going to be okay. It’ll be okay.” You let out a whine as your body had shifted temperature, but welcomed the cool water against your warm skin.

— — —

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep or maybe you passed out, but you woke up in an unfamiliar bed, with a box fan pointed right at you. It took you a moment, your head pounding as you looked around the room, noticing the various country-esq landscape paintings and the giant deer head on the wall. It was nearing night time, or so you had guessed by the last remnants of the sunset peaking through the wooden blinds. You tried to sit up, but let out a groan instead, your head starting to swim and black spots filling your vision.

“Y/N?” You froze as you heard Kayce’s voice from the other side of the door, “Can I come in?”

‘Holy shit’ You cursed to yourself, ‘I’m in Kayce’s room.’

“Yeah,” Your voice was raspy, and you could still feel the sting of bile.

Ever so gently, Kayce pushed the door to his bedroom open, sticking his head in first before coming all the way in, “Hey,” You nodded your head as he walked towards you, a glass of water in his hand and some tylenol, “Drink this and take these. It’ll help the headache and muscle cramps.”

“How do you know?” You asked, taking the water and medicine. Now that he mentioned it, your legs felt heavier than normal with a slight ache to them.

“They train you on the basics of heat stroke in the Navy,” Kayce said, “Seen one too many guys fall over.” You felt your cheeks pink up in embarrassment, “No one saw, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Am I that transparent?” You said barely above a whisper, “You didn’t have to bring me here. They would’ve taken care of me at the bunkhouse.”

“I know,” Kayce swallowed thickly. He wasn’t all too sure why he had picked you up and put you in his truck, driving back to his house for you to rest somewhere quiet and comfortable. But he did, and he didn’t regret it. He knew that he would’ve been a nervous wreck leaving you in the bunkhouse, “I needed to make sure you were going to be okay. . . You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” You squeaked out.

“Don’t apologize, Y/N,” Kayce said, shifting closer to you on the bed, “One of my first summer's running cattle with my dad, I did the same thing. We’d been out all day and came back, and the second I climbed off my hose I hit the ground. Face first in shit shavings,” You couldn’t help but chuckle, “At least you picked a clean stall to upchuck and pass out in.”

You rolled your eyes, “Thanks for catching me.”

“Always,” Kayce said, grabbing your hand. You glanced down between your hands and back up at Kayce, who had a slight blush on his face. He went to pull his hand away but you squeezed it and then laced your fingers with his.

#Yellowstone fan fic #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone fan fiction #kayce dutton #kayce Dutton fan fic #kayce Dutton fan fiction #kayce Dutton imagine #kayce Dutton x reader #kayce Dutton x you #kayce dutton x y/n #whumptober 2024

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ayeforscotland · 2 months ago

Note

I've been kinda neutral on the whole AI debate. But, as it turns out, the new chatgpt update has scraped the internet for Facebook profiles etc. Seeing this update, I popped on and asked it "who is [my real name]". It came up and told me that there was a Facebook profile under my name and that I had attended the University of Edinburgh, and what course I did (which had a tiny cohort, making me incredibly identifiable). My real name is quite rare so it came up as a top result - I tried it with my ex's name (much more common than my friends names) and it just showed a bunch of celebs, but I reckon had I given more details he would have popped up too. Instantly went on Facebook and found the form to ask meta to stop passing my details on for AI training - which I couldn't even remember being notified about. Just about threw up seeing that amount of detail pop up about me and I'm not sure if I can get openai to remove that info now it's in their system. I don't want to invoke my right to be forgotten (if that's even still a thing post brexit???) since I'm working towards an academic career.

We need much harsher laws and restrictions on what AI can and can't do. Generative AI is one issue but LLM's should not have access to personal information like that, ever.

Yeah I wouldn’t touch ChatGPT with a barge pole. It’s creepy that it holds that information, and once it’s scraped it’s hard to remove.

It’s the sorta thing privacy regulation should be covering but lack of federal privacy laws in the US means Silicon Valley AI companies can just take the piss globally.

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dandelionsresilience · 4 months ago

Text

Dandelion News - November 1-7

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles on Patreon!

1. Climate Initiatives Fare Well Across the Country Despite National Political Climate

“[California voters approved] a $10 billion bond measure to boost climate resilience across [the] state[…. Hawai’i] voters cast their ballots in favor of establishing the [climate] resiliency fund, with money for the project coming from existing property tax revenue.“

2. ‘You have to disguise your human form’: how sea eagles are being returned to Severn estuary after 150 years

“[… To avoid imprinting,] the handlers will wear long robes and feed the young eagles chopped rabbit and other meat with bird hand-puppets. […] Williams hopes that restoring eagles to the top of the food chain in the estuary will create a more balanced, thriving ecosystem.”

3. 10 states voted on pro-abortion referendums. 7 of them passed

“New York voters overwhelmingly approved the Equal Rights Amendment, adding [… among other characteristics] gender expression, pregnancy, and pregnancy outcomes to anti-discrimination laws. […] In deep-red Missouri and Montana, voters also enshrined abortions protections in their state constitutions.”

4. Giant rats could soon fight illegal wildlife trade by sniffing out elephant tusk and rhino horn

“”Our study shows that we can train African giant pouched rats to detect illegally trafficked wildlife, even when it has been concealed among other substances[.…] They can easily access tight spaces like cargo in packed shipping containers or be lifted up high to screen the ventilation systems of sealed containers,” Szott explained.”

5. Sarah McBride wins Delaware U.S. House seat, becoming the first out trans member of Congress

“McBride spearheaded Delaware’s legislation to ban the “gay and trans panic” defense as a state senator [… and] helped to pass paid family and medical leave, gun safety measures, and protections for reproductive rights.”

6. Critically endangered Sumatran elephant calf born in Indonesia

“Indonesian officials hailed the births and said they showed conservation efforts were essential to prevent the protected species from extinction. […] Sumatran elephants are on the brink of extinction with only about 2,400-2,800 left in the world, according to the World Wide Fund for Nature.”

7. Sin City is Going Green

“[Hotels there] have conserved 16 billion gallons of water since 2007, thanks to […] replacing grass with desert-friendly landscaping, installing water-efficient taps across all properties, and reusing water at aquariums and in the Bellagio Fountain.”

8. Gray squirrel control: Study shows promise for effective contraceptive delivery system

“[… T]he feeders have a very high level of species-specificity. […] The bait and monitoring system developed and tested in the study demonstrated that […] “spring was the only season tested where female squirrels were more likely to visit bait feeders than males. Spring coincides with a peak in squirrel breeding and is therefore a good time to deliver a contraceptive."”

9. Returning Grazing Land to Native Forests Would Yield Big Climate Benefits

“[… S]trategically regrowing forests on land where cattle currently graze […] while intensifying production elsewhere could drastically cut greenhouse gas emissions, with little hit to global protein production, a new study shows.”

10. Interior Department Strengthens Conservation of American Bison Through New Agreement with Canada and Mexico

“Approximately 31,000 bison are currently being stewarded by the United States, Canada and Mexico with the goal of conserving the species and their role in the function of native grassland systems, as well as their place in Indigenous culture.”

October 22-28 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

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the-90s-music-colosseum · 1 year ago

Text

Quarterfinals, Match 2

expand to see all propaganda received! (wall of text warning oh my god this is a severe cautionary message)

Lauryn Hill:

"she paved the way and was hot as fuck the whole time"

"Girl c'mon. Look at her. You're gonna try and tell me that isn't the most beautiful and attractive person alive? Okay. You're lying but okay."

"if u freaks don't give ms. lauryn hill the respect she deserves..."

"actually one of the prettiest women ever I'm such a lesbian for her. like irl I'm already a lesbian but she is helping"

Damon Albarn:

"Don’t think Damon should be here? Why don’t you get your head checked by a jumbo jet? Maybe you’ll feel heavy metal and calm down."

"If Damon is in the “some guy” category, he’s the heavenly and heartbreaking version. Damon is the sort of significant stranger I’d see on the train out of Colchester but could never speak to, just a face seen in passing yet too radiant to be real. I’d fall in love for an hour and carry the ache for a month."

"Damon sets the standard for me. I think he’s the most fascinating man alive. What I find attractive in Damon is not just his gorgeous bone structure and boyish charm, but how wholly he’s committed himself to music. Damon is an artist who walked the walk: in one of his roughest years with some of his rawest songwriting, he said he was no longer excited by anything except the creative process. He was disillusioned with the celebrity of it all, with his relationships suffering for it, and only wanted to make art: nothing more, nothing less. He would go on to compose film scores, write operas and stage musicals, produce other artists’ records, form collectives to fulfill his passion for world music, and create some of the most globally successful music of his career in a completely innovative format that placed him as the phantom behind the characters. Whenever one band takes a break, he makes a solo record or puts together a supergroup to stay busy. He’s uniquely collaborative and still writes personal letters inviting artists to record with him, and yet can function as a one-man show, acting as a multi-instrumentalist, a singer-songwriter and a producer. He’s been a constant voice of bringing British music to the world *and* bringing world music into Britain. Sure, he’s won Brit Awards and a Grammy among others, but he also has a Guinness World Record and was named an Officer of the British Empire for his services to music; his long work with Africa Express earned him respect even from peers who’d previously dismissed him, and his commitment to support his Malian collaborators in the face of violence earned him the title of Local King in Mali. There is so much talent in the world, but there is truly no one else with a career that looks like Damon Albarn’s. Damon is far more than just a prettyboy to look nice on a magazine cover, but looks are the ultimate point of this tournament, so make no mistake: he was terribly, terribly pretty. You watch him performing in the 90s, you sift through photoshoots and interviews and documentaries, and it feels *cruel* how beautiful he was. If his talent was god-given, so was his face. To put a bow on this thesis: I don’t know if Gorillaz and Damon’s musical universe would be the experimental, globe-trotting, boundary-pushing community affair it is if Blur hadn’t become such a central figure in Britpop and if Damon had not been made such a media spectacle, and I don’t know if Damon would have been that spectacle if he wasn’t so ungodly pretty. The domino effect is that Damon’s cherubic face launched a thousand multimedia art school projects for decades to come."

"I wish I was basically any bloke in the 90s so I could tongue Damon Albarn down. Damon will see a man and ask “is anyone gonna kiss that?” and not wait for a response."

"I have a pillow with his face on it. I sleep with it every night 😊"

"“I’m more homosexual than Brett Anderson, always have been. As far as bisexuality goes, I’ve had a taste of that particular fruit, or have been tasted you might say…” is just the rawest most Shakespearean statement ever"

"he is the ultimate Pretty Boy ™. his glorious golden locks, his electric blue eyes. he is if Princess Diana was a Britpop Dude. he is the Regina George of Britpop. he is if Aphrodite took male form. Zeus would come down to earth to fuck him if he knew. he is a caffeinated orange cat let loose. he is deranged. he is unhinged. you never know what will come out of his mouth. he had sexual tension with every single man who knew him. he pulled justine fucking frischmann. his aura knows no bounds. he is a siren. he is a weird guy. but being so gorgeous stunning ethereal didn't stop him from also being one of the most prolific songwriters of his generation"

"THE MAIN BLUR"

"literally where do i even begin. i could write entire essays on this man. a good place to start would be the beetlebum music video, i suppose. i'll never forget the first time i watched that music video. something in me changed, my brain chemistry was altered, my life was never the same, i view the world a lot differently now. and a lot of the viewing i'm doing is of pictures of damon albarn's face because of boy do i have a lot of those saved. every time i try to look for a photo of something on my phone i can't find it because there's so much damon. okay that's maybe an exaggeration but this man has the most unfathomable beauty ever. his eyes? HIS EYES. god dammit i love his eyes i want to stare at them until the end of time like nothing else exists. i'm so normal about this man (lying) and while i'm usually very shameless about my interests i'm actually incredibly glad this propaganda is anonymous because otherwise. yeah. but the world deserves to see damon albarn's beauty and also hear his fantastic voice because what the fuck. his voice is literally the most gorgeous sound ever produced like bro sounds like that and expects me not to fall in love? i want this man to sing his silly songs and talk absolute nonsense to me until the sun eventually blows out and the world ends. cmon damon girlies let's demolish this tournament i know there are a lot of you."

"He’s beautiful. He’s a little rat. He’s a sweetheart. He’s a dickhead. He’s a musical genius. He’s a dumb bitch. He’s a jock. He’s a weirdo. He’s real. He’s an illusion. He’s everything. He’s just Damon."

"DAMON DAMON DAMON where do I begin oh jeez I've hyperfixated on this man for a solid 4 years and still going strong. Damon makes me wish that British people are real. That says A LOT. This man created a whole ass ANIMATED BAND WITH A SHIT TON OF LORE as a SIDE HUSTLE??? Not to mention, what other man has collaborated with Stevie Nicks, MF DOOM, Del the Funky Homosapien, Snoop Dogg, AND Beck?! People, we're literally in the presence of a god. And he's STILL GOING. Anyways, TL;DR, damon is so so so neat and cool and he should definitely win this competition. Thank you."

"Okay 90s Damon is The Perfect Boy yes yes, but the people who parrot the Daily Mail and say "he's ugly now" will never understand. I would still suck every drop from him on his deathbed."

"Vote for whoever you want to. But Damon is so pretty."

"i did not spend hours admiring this beautiful man's face on pinterest just to see him lose."

"Damon Albarn just brings me joy. When I'm watching him perform, following along as the camera lingers on and adores his pretty face, I get butterflies like I'm 15 again. It's nice to still feel that totally unguarded giddiness sometimes."

"God let the intrusive thoughts win making Damon. What if he's a beautiful blond twink with eyes like saucers and dick to his knees, he reads Herman Hesse and plays footie and is insufferable about both, he'll be the most prolific musician of his generation and write operas and seminal albums in 5 different genres and also he's gonna be the dumbest bitch alive? He'll also be kinda bi, but only kinda. And send."

"when i found out about his existence, my life was changed forever. i wish i could use him like the hannah montana boot milk pillow and chuck him at the wall so he makes a loud thud"

"Think of the drama and anon fights it'll cause if Damon wins it all! And think of how quiet it'll get after Damon's out. You'll miss him when he's gone, like memories of a noisy house years after it's grown silent. Choose Damon, and keep the messy train chugging."

"Even the Gallagher brothers have the hots for him."

"Kiss kiss I love him also you can't vote for any of the Seattle men they're literally copy and paste it's not fair. We need Brit representation"

"I want to take care of him, I want to provide for him. I need to gauge his baby blue puppy dog orbs out to I can clean them with wood varnish, paint shades of Pantone 320 C in his eyes, spray eau de parfume by dior in them and sew it back into his eyes like that scene in Toy Story 2."

"Seeing as simply filling the page with ‘Damon’ written 10000000 times isn’t going to cut it 😅 may I admit/submit: I DO have him tattooed on my being (no descriptive, is this anon?); he’s inspired somewhat unhinged late night/early morning fandom conversations in which I’ve served as ‘parish’ priest hearing confessions from all manner of folk about what they’d like to do to him/receive from him; sadly I lost an essay where I detailed why the letters that make up his name suit him so well, and described him as the hot caramel sauce to Graham’s cool vanilla ice cream. He’s a faerie princess with a nose that makes people weep and a voice that feels like the warmest home and he gives amazing hugs. He loves trains and chickens and his tuxedo cat. He’s annoying and sweet and somewhat unhinged and his music saves people and all this is on top of that fantastic dick. He’s a dream yet very real and we’re fucking blessed to be on earth at the same time as him, amen"

"Damon Albarn was a beautiful, beautiful boy. The world saw that, regardless of if every individual reading this has the same taste in men; it felt like a truth of the universe at the time. They don't make celebrities that angelic in face and erratic in personality anymore."

"I need to touch his eyebrows, nose and prostate just one time JUST ONE TIME COME ON"

#most attractive 90s musician #poll #polls #lauryn hill #fugees #damon albarn #blur #90s music #tournament

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bytemee · 25 days ago

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chapter four. | WHERE DO YOU SLEEP? — YU JIMIN.

𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 — y/n, a rising music producer, has built her dream career while keeping her personal life under wraps. karina, aespa’s leader, is preparing for a huge comeback with a mini album produced and written by the one and only y/n.

karina knows this is the opportunity of a lifetime, and she has to nail it. the only problem is, she may be a bit distracted by her producer.

something about their connection feels different—like maybe it's worth the risk of prying eyes. but how much will they give up to chase after what they want?

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — includes texts, kissy kissy, more suggestive jokes aha, tad angst idk?? and i think that's all.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 — 3k

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲— i would update this more often but i second guess my writing so much

taglist (open) — @sunshinez4 @gtfoiydlyj @yuyuy90 @liaponderstings @rinapomu

series masterlist. main masterlist. prev. next.

"ah, shit!" you mumble at your phone screen, a deep frown on your lips. it was already the afternoon; you had spent the morning rotting in your hotel bed since you were free of schedules for the day, but now you were in the car with your manager coming back from a quick shopping trip because you didn't have anything better to do.

"what happened?" your manager asks, leaning over to see what the problem was. he lets out a small chuckle, and you shoot him a look. "oh, no, that's not good," he says, a hint of amusement in his tone.

you stare at him.

"it's not funny! i was so close to beating my high score!" subway surfers wasn't just a game to you; it was your life. your whole world revolves around getting that high score and having your name at the top of the global leaderboard. you were so close, too, but that train came out of nowhere and ended your run.

you let out a frustrated sigh, flopping back against the seat and crossing your arms over your chest. "i was so close," you mumble again, a pout on your lips. looking out the window, you watch the city pass by in a blur, the weather of seoul matching your mood—gloomy and overcast.

it was supposed to start raining soon.

your phone buzzes suddenly, and you look at the screen, your mood brightening a bit when you see the message.

a smile pulls at the corners of your lips.

tucking your phone away just as your manager glances over at you. you thin out your lips and stare the older man directly in the eyes, and he raises an eyebrow, but you quickly look away, whistling a tune to act nonchalant.

"you and karina are getting close, huh?" he says. you feel a blush creeping up your neck as you nod in response, trying to hide your smile. "she's just a friend," you say, hoping he doesn't notice the way your voice cracks slightly.

"just a friend, hm?"

"yeah," you lie, nodding once more.

there was a small pause of silence.

"i'm happy for you. i really am," he starts. here we go. the speech you've been dreading.

"but," he continues, because of course there's a but, "you've got to be careful. both of you are high-profile. you know how this industry is—fans, tabloids, all of it. the last thing you need is a dating rumor with karina."

you shift uncomfortably in your seat. "i know," you mumble.

"i mean it. her fans are..." he hesitates, searching for the right word. "passionate. and yours aren't exactly laid-back, either."

"yeah, i know," you repeat, this time a little more forcefully.

your manager lets out a long sigh. "look, i just don't want to see you get hurt again."

that makes you pause. you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. he's right—your fans and jimin's aren't exactly laid-back. you'd heard about the backlash from her last dating relationship, and you definitely don't want to go through that again with someone you've just begun seeing. it's a lot of pressure, but you know you have to be careful with how public you make your relationship. the last thing you want is for things to blow up in your face like they did with your last girlfriend.

you were 19, and it was the biggest mistake you've ever made. you were too young and naïve, and the relationship had crashed and burned within a few weeks. your fans didn't handle it well. it was all over the news, and even though the two of you tried to keep the relationship private, everyone had their eyes on you, and it was the most uncomfortable situation you'd ever been in.

comments like, "you deserve better," and, "she's not worthy of your time," filled the comment section of your social media, and it took awhile for the negative reactions to calm down. your fans are passionate, and while it can be overwhelming at times, you're so grateful for them. they've been by your side through thick and thin. you love them so much, and they care about you so much that it can sometimes be overbearing.

regardless of all that, you and your ex are still friends to this day, and you've managed to keep things cordial despite everything that happened. she understood the pressure you were under, and there was no bad blood when you decided to end things. it was a mutual decision—one made out of necessity rather than a lack of feelings. but the aftermath was something you never wanted to experience again.

"yeah, i get it," you murmur, fiddling with the hem of your hoodie. "i'll be careful. i promise."

your manager gives you a knowing look, his expression softening. "i know you will. i just... i see how happy you look these days. i don't want anything to ruin that for you."

you nod, appreciating his concern. he's been with you since the start of your career and knows you better than most people. he's seen the highs and lows, and he's always been there to guide you through it.

things with jimin already feel so different—easier, more natural. but with her being who she is and you being who you are, there's no denying that the stakes are high. it would be foolish not to acknowledge that, and you're not one to jump into things headfirst without thinking about the consequences.

you're not 19 anymore.

your phone buzzes again, pulling you out of your thoughts. it's another message from her.

"do you mind picking me up from my dorm?"

"not at all. i can be there in an hour or so."

"sounds good. can't wait."

"hurry, hurry!" you usher at jimin, holding your hands above her head in an attempt to shield her from the pouring rain. she laughs, ducking underneath your makeshift umbrella of hands, and the two of you sprint towards your driver's parked car just a few feet away.

"you know this isn't really helping, right?" she teases, but she's still smiling, her eyes shining with amusement as the rain pelts her hair and clothes.

"it's the thought that counts!" you fire back, grinning as you reach the car. the door swings open, and the two of you clamber inside, panting. your driver glances at you through the rearview mirror before turning on the heat full blast, trying to help the two of you dry off.

"you're a terrible umbrella," she quips, pushing a few wet strands of hair out of her face.

"you're so cruel, jimin." you feign hurt, leaning your head against her shoulder as the car begins to move, the sound of the windshield wipers providing a comfortable background noise. with no hesitation, jimin's head rests on top of yours, her cheek pressing against the dampness of your hair.

"i'm joking," she reassures, gently resting her hand on top of yours, which was lying against her thigh, your pinkie drawing small circles on her leg. "do you think your grandma will like me?"

you smile at her question, taking in a deep breath before responding, "yeah, she's excited to meet you."

"really?"

"of course. i told them you're the one behind all my sleepless nights lately," you joke, earning a slap on the arm from the older woman.

"ouch," you say, rubbing your arm, but you're laughing.

jimin scoffs, shaking her head.

your grandma greeted the two of you with a warm smile and open arms, along with kimchi-jjigae, banchan, and freshly steamed rice already laid out on the table. the smell wafted through the house, making your stomach growl in anticipation.

"ah, you're here!" she exclaimed, hugging you and then moving on to hug a shy and timid-looking jimin. "and this must be your friend. so beautiful!"

jimin bowed respectfully, a warm smile on her lips. "thank you for having me." your grandma chuckled, patting jimin's hands. "such a polite girl. come, come. sit down before the food gets cold."

the two of you settled down at the table, and your grandma sat across from the two of you, watching you with a fond smile. you began eating, chatting, and laughing as the three of you ate together. your grandma was a great cook, and the meal was delicious, and it wasn't long before a big book was set in front of the both of you, photos sticking out of every page.

your grandma began flipping through the album, showing off old photos of you as a kid. the first few were okay—embarrassing, yes, but tolerable.

then she landed on a particular photo, and you froze.

it was a picture of you when you were about eight years old. you were dressed up in a little yellow dress, your hair in two braids, and a pair of bunny ears sitting atop your head.

you had forgotten about the bunny ears.

"oh, my god," you mumbled, burying your face in your hands, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.

"is... that you?" jimin asked, pointing at the photo, her eyes wide with amusement as her jaw dropped. "yes, that's me," you grumbled, your voice muffled through your hands. you dared to peek through your fingers and immediately regretted it. jimin was practically bouncing in her seat, a grin plastered across her face as she leaned closer to the photo.

"what a cute girl! i remember this outfit." your grandma said, a huge grin on her face. "it was from the school festival. she wanted to dress up like a bunny—" jimin eagerly nodded, her gaze moving back and forth between the book and your grandmother.

"that's so cute," she said, laughing, and your grandma nodded.

your grandma turned the page in the album, her laugh bubbling up again as another photo caught her attention. "oh, look at this one," she said, pointing to a picture of you as a toddler, sitting in a high chair with your face completely smeared with what looked like chocolate cake.

jimin leaned forward, a wide smile on her face.

"look at her little cheeks," she gushed, pointing to your puffed-out baby cheeks in the photo.

"please, please, please. no more. i'm begging you."

neither of them looked up.

"wait, wait," jimin said, pointing at another photo. "is that flour? oh my, she's covered head to toe!"

your grandma burst out laughing, tapping the photo with her finger. "yes! she wanted to help me bake cookies, but she ended up making more of a mess than anything else. look at her face—completely indignant."

a small pout formed on your face as you crossed your arms. they seemed to be in their own little world, completely forgetting about your presence in the room. the pout leaves your face, replaced by a smile when you realize how happy she was making your grandmother—how happy they were making each other.

watching the two of them bonding warmed your heart. they seemed to hit it off immediately, and it was obvious that they were getting along. you clasped your hands together, resting your chin on top as you watched them. in this moment, you didn't mind being forgotten. seeing jimin this comfortable, sharing laughter and memories with one of the most important people in your life, felt like its own kind of magic.

it felt so domestic, and you found yourself wanting more moments like this, wanting to see her smiling and laughing with your family, to hear stories of your childhood, to watch her bond with those closest to you.

you wanted more, and the realization sent a wave of emotion washing over you.

but it also brought with it a feeling of fear.

after all, you're human. you've tasted what happens when you give too much of yourself, when you let someone in and the world takes notice. you didn't know how far this thing with her would go, but if history was any indication, the odds weren't exactly in your favor. you cared for her deeply, and you knew that if that time came, ending things wouldn't be easy, not by a long shot.

this wasn't just about you anymore. jimin had her own career, which involved other people you also care about, and if the two of you were caught, if the relationship was discovered, the repercussions would be massive.

could you handle being responsible for that? could she?

jimin glanced up at you, catching your gaze. a slow smile crept onto her lips, and her eyes crinkled at the corners. just for a moment, just for now, you pushed the worries out of your mind.

and instead, you just smiled back.

the photo album neared its end; your grandma let out a satisfied sigh, gently closing the book. "ah, so many memories. i'm glad i got to share them with such a lovely guest." she patted jimin's hand, who blushed at the praise.

your grandma stood from the table, collecting the photo album and placing it back on the shelf. "you two should take some time to relax. y/n, why don't you show her your old room?"

you nodded, pushing back your chair as jimin followed your lead. you led her down the hallway, pointing out old family photos along the way. opening the door to your childhood room, you watched as jimin's eyes lit up, a wide smile spreading across her face.

the walls were a pale blue color, with white trim and a small window that looked out onto the garden. there was a twin-size bed, covered with a floral-patterned quilt, and a dresser topped with a few knickknacks.

jimin walked around the room, examining the shelves lined with trophies, ribbons, and other awards from various music competitions you'd won when you were a kid. there were also pictures of you with various teachers, a few framed magazine clippings, and some old concert tickets displayed proudly on the walls.

you watched her from your bed, leaning back on your elbows as she explored. "your room is so nice," she said, running her fingers along the spines of some books on a shelf.

"yeah?" you replied, and she nodded, glancing over her shoulder at you.

"it's cute. like you."

you turned away muttering something under your breath, and she laughed, plopping down next to you on the bed. her hand reached behind you, grabbing a stuffed animal off the shelf and holding it up to your face.

"what's this?" she asked, a smile playing on her lips.

in an instant, you lunged for it, but she was too fast, pulling it out of your reach with a laugh. you narrowed your eyes at her, trying again, and again, you failed.

"what's his name?" she asked, her voice playful as she held the stuffed animal behind her back of her stretched body, just out of your grasp.

"mr. flopsy, okay? now give him back!" you exclaimed, making a third attempt to grab the stuffed animal, which she once again moved out of your reach.

"fine," you muttered, a sly grin creeping onto your face. you feigned giving up, and as soon as her hand fell, you struck. grabbing mr. flopsy and putting him behind your back before laying down on top of the brown stuffed bear, letting out a victorious laugh.

"you're suffocating him!" jimin yelled, crawling on the bed toward you, trying to save mr. flopsy from his untimely demise.

"he's fine," you retorted, rolling your eyes at jimin's dramatics. "i raised him to be tough and resilient, just like me."

"no, he's not," she said, climbing on top of you, her legs on either side of your body, reaching for mr. flopsy. she couldn't even reach him. her fingers barely scraped the fabric; instead, it felt like she was trying to tickle you, and that only made you lean deeper against the bed, laughing even harder.

noticing your giggles, she gave up on reaching for mr. flopsy and started tickling you relentlessly, her fingers digging into your sides. you squirmed, kicking your legs in the air, trying to escape her playful assault.

"stop, stop!" you managed to gasp between laughs, but she only laughed along with you, not stopping. "what?" she teased, and you squealed, grabbing her hands and intertwining your fingers with hers to stop the tickling.

both of you were gasping for air, and you stared at each other, eyes watering and chests heaving. the laughter slowly died down, and then it was just the two of you, alone in the quiet.

a beat passed.

her gaze softened as she looked down at you, her smile fading into something more tender. you blinked up at her, not sure what to say, not sure what to do, feeling like your brain had short-circuited.

then, she leaned closer, the space between you disappearing inch by inch. her nose brushed yours, and your breath hitched, sharp and unsteady. you caught the flicker of her tongue as she wet her lips, her eyes never leaving yours.

and then, her lips met yours. at first, it was gentle, almost hesitant. her hands stayed tangled with yours, her grip tightening slightly, and you pressed back, your head tilting slightly to the right, your mouth opening wider, the kiss becoming less innocent.

her soft sigh mingled with yours as the kiss deepened, her tongue sliding against yours, warm and wet. you let go of her hands, moving an arm to wrap around her frame as she leaned into you, arms circling your neck and her body molding against yours.

it was intoxicating, and you found yourself wanting more.

you were dragging yourself into a hole you might not be able to dig out of, and yet, you didn't care. the risks, the potential consequences, the worry—the worry—you were telling yourself that none of it mattered because you were willing to take the risk. you were willing to put your heart on the line, your career, your reputation, everything.

you were willing to do it all for her.

series masterlist. main masterlist. prev. next.

a/n: no they did not get freaky.

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goldenempyrean · 1 year ago

Text

An Icy Plunge

〚 Notes - Life's been busy! New job, exams, writers block (only for sickfics too which is beyond annoying) but here's a little something which I thought of while rewatching BlackWidow an hour or so ago - I did sob at the end credits of course.. 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - As a result of falling into the icy Norwegian waters, Nat ends up getting sick as you two make your way to Budapest. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1400 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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“I told you we should’ve tried to get you warmed up properly.” You sighed quietly, more to yourself then anything as Nat sniffled softly. Her head resting on your shoulder as the pair of you sat at the back of a crowded train carriage.

It had been almost 2 days since both you and Natasha were ambushed by an unknown person on your drive into town. Nat had taken the brunt of their attack, in turn, getting herself kicked off a bridge, plunging down into the icy Nordic waters below.

She was fine for the most part, only a handful of bruises which all things considered, she got away pretty lucky. But there’d been a picture attached to the glowing band of red vials that she’d stashed in her pockets and by the time you had made your way down to the riverside to help her out of the water, Nat had already come up with a plan.

You were going to Budapest.

You hadn’t wanted to pry too much; she had told you it had something to do with her sister, but you didn’t know all the exact details – you still had some questions. All you knew was that Budapest was the place Nat thought she’d get the answers to her own questions, so that was where you were going.

With both yourself and Natasha being global fugitives, getting to Budapest wasn’t as simple as hopping on board the first commercial plane. You were going to have to do this the hard way. It had taken almost half an hour to walk your way to the nearest town from the river, by the time you arrived, Nat was shivering helplessly beside you.

The temperate was already in the low minuses as it was, but that icy water must’ve been excruciatingly cold. Even with your jacket draped over her, it was clear to see she was freezing.

“Do you think we should stay in a hostel or something for the night? You’ll get hypothermia if you stay in those clothes. We can leave at first light.” You had offered as the two of you made your way deeper into the town, passing by a small convenience store.

Natasha seemed to debate your offer, nodding her head after a moment as she fought back another shiver, “Yeah, that’s probably best.” She agreed, before looking around and pointing to a charity shop in the distance, “They’ll sell clothes in there, can you go get us a bed?” She asked, nodding back at an inn you’d walked past earlier.

You agreed with Natasha's plan, and she headed towards the shop while you made your way to the inn. The place seemed quaint from the outside, but you couldn't shake the feeling that it might be a little too rustic for comfort. However, beggars couldn't be choosers, and you hoped it would at least provide a warm bed for the night.

The innkeeper was a gruff-looking man who eyed you suspiciously as you inquired about a room for the night. "We got a room, but don't expect any luxury here. No hot water tonight, and the heating is barely working," he warned.

Well, you had a bed atleast.

The innkeeper handed you a key, and you made your way up the creaky staircase to find your room. The space was small and dimly lit, with a single window covered by thin curtains that did little to keep out the harsh cold.

You had a double bed so that was a positive you’d supposed. It was honestly comical the amount of times you and Nat had to share a small single bed together, but it wasn’t like you minded that anyway. Talking of Nat, she’d only been 10 minutes or so behind. Shuffling into the room with some rough but warmer looking clothes bundled under her arm.

“Get what you needed love?” You asked, as she began to strip out of her soaked clothes.

“The pants aren't exactly my style, but they’ll be better than these,” She sighed, taking her new clothes and heading into the tiny attached bathroom, “I’ll try hang these wet ones to dry.”

When she came out, she looked more like herself, although the lingering chill was still evident in her eyes. "I could really use a hot shower right about now." she mumbled, rubbing her pale hands together in an attempt to generate some warmth.

"Sorry about that," you apologised sympathetically, "The guy at the desk mentioned there's no hot water tonight. I can go check out town a little to see if there’s anywhere, you’d be able to get one, clothes can only do so much to warm you up."

She shook her head, “You don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.” Natasha sighed, but she didn't complain. Instead, she walked over to the bed and crawled under the covers, fully dressed. You joined her, wrapping your arms around her to share body heat. The cold from the room made the close contact comforting rather than stifling.

The night passed with the two of you huddled together for warmth. The room, despite its lack of amenities, did provide some respite from the biting cold outside. The next morning, you awoke to the soft light filtering through the thin curtains and the sound of Natasha stirring beside you.

"Morning," you greeted, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Natasha groaned in response, her voice sounding hoarse and congested. "Morning,"

Your brow creased in worry at the sound of her voice, “You don’t sound too good honey, I knew we should’ve gotten you into a hot shower.” Your hand came to cup her face, your thumb drawing soft circles on her subtly flushed cheeks.

Natasha shifted uncomfortably, her hand reaching up to touch her forehead. "I'll be fine," She tried to offer a weak smile but was quickly replaced by a damp sneeze. It’s probably just a little cold. Besides, we can't afford to stay here too long anyway. We need to get to Budapest," she insisted

Despite Natasha's insistence that she would be fine, it was clear that she wasn't in the best shape. She sniffled and shivered under the covers; her body temperature higher than it should be. Still, she pushed herself to get up.

"I'll be alright," she reassured you, her voice wavering slightly. "Let's get going. We can't afford to waste any more time."

You reluctantly agreed, helping her gather her things and head downstairs. The innkeeper gave you both a sceptical look as you settled the bill, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for not being able to pay for a more comfortable stay. Nevertheless, you and Natasha made your way to the bus station, where you boarded a bus bound for the nearest train station.

The bus had dropped you off at a larger town where you had to transfer to a train. The train station was bustling with people all rushing about, and you held Nat’s hand as the pair of you navigated through the crowds before coming to a ticket stand where you both bought tickets to take you to the border, from there you’d have to take a ferry to get into mainland Europe then another 2 or 3 trains to finally arrive in Budapest. It wasn’t a direct journey by any means, the several stops, long distances and changes meant it was going to take a few days to get there at the minimum.

This had led you to where you were now. A couple hours or so into your long journey to the border with Nat resting on your shoulder, small stuffy breaths coming from her parted lips.

She sneezed suddenly, a sharp sound that seemed to startle even herself. She looked at you with a mix of surprise and irritation, as if the sneeze had betrayed her.

You couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Bless you," you said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on her forehead. The skin felt warm against your lips, and you couldn't ignore the worry gnawing at you. Natasha sighed, leaning into your touch for a moment.

"Thanks," she mumbled, her voice still raspy. "I hate being sick."

"I know, love," you replied, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Once we get to the border, we'll find a pharmacy or something but for now just try to catch up on some sleep, okay?”

“We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”

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g3tinl0ser · 23 days ago

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MASTERLIST

🦇

<<<PREV

The Watchtower's sleek meeting room hummed with a low, persistent energy as the Justice League gathered around the central table. The faint glow of Earth through the massive windows illuminated the space, casting sharp angles of light across the polished surfaces. Seated at the head of the table, Batman leaned back slightly in his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his signature scowl deepened to a point of near-permanence.

"Stark," he muttered, the name alone weighted with irritation. The rest of the League exchanged glances, some amused, others weary.

"You’ve faced Darkseid without flinching, but Tony Stark makes you twitchy?" Barry quipped, the Flash’s grin stretching wide as he leaned against his chair.

“This isn’t twitchy,” Batman replied without looking up, his voice clipped and icy. “This is calculating. Working with Stark requires a level of patience no amount of training can prepare you for.”

Diana, seated gracefully across from him, raised an elegant brow. “Tony Stark isn’t the entire Avengers, Bruce. Perhaps you should reserve your judgment until we see how they handle this collaboration.”

“They brought him to the gala,” Batman snapped, his gaze finally meeting hers. “First impressions were made.”

Superman watches his.. Friend? He knows there's more to this, “This sound personal.. Is it?”

Aquaman chuckled deeply, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed. “Sounds like someone’s holding a grudge.”

Before Bruce could respond, the Watchtower’s AI chimed in. “Incoming transmission from the Avengers.”

A shared look passed among the League members before Batman stood, cape billowing as he moved to the console. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered.

The holographic projection flickered to life in the center of the table, revealing Steve Rogers flanked by Natasha Romanoff and Tony Stark, whose usual smug grin was already in place.

“Justice League,” Steve began with a nod of respect. “Thank you for making the time to meet with us.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened, but he nodded curtly. “Captain.”

Tony, of course, couldn’t resist. “Well, this is cozy. Love what you’ve done with the place. A little cold, but I suppose that’s on brand for our favorite brooding bat.”

Bruce’s glare was sharp enough to cut steel, but he kept his composure. “We’re here to discuss collaboration, not your opinions on interior design, Stark.”

“Touchy,” Tony replied, smirking.

Diana placed a steadying hand on Bruce’s arm, her voice calm but firm. “Let’s focus on the task at hand, shall we?”

Steve gave Tony a pointed look before clearing his throat. “Right. The Avengers want to ensure open communication and coordinated efforts between our teams, especially with the threats we’re all seeing crop up globally.”

Bruce remained silent, his calculating eyes studying the trio. He didn’t trust Tony, and likely never would, but for the sake of the world, and for his team, he’d do what was necessary.

But as the meeting continued, one thing was clear: this alliance was going to test his patience like never before.

The hologram of the Avengers flickered off, leaving the Justice League seated around the table in a charged silence. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the Watchtower’s systems. Then Barry broke the silence, leaning back in his chair with a wide grin.

“Well, that was... something. Did you see Stark? I mean, he’s like the Flash of billionaires. Non-stop talking.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened as he adjusted the gauntlet on his wrist. “If he were even half as useful as you, we’d have no issues,” he said flatly, his tone a mix of annoyance and thinly veiled sarcasm.

Barry blinked, not entirely sure whether to take it as a compliment. “Uh, thanks... I think?”

Arthur chuckled, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. “You’re wound tighter than usual, Bruce. Stark really that much under your skin?”

“He’s careless,” Bruce shot back. “And arrogant. His ego drives his decisions, not logic or strategy. That makes him a liability.”

Diana leaned slightly forward, her calm and regal presence a sharp contrast to Bruce’s simmering irritation. “He’s also resourceful and brilliant in his own right. Whatever history you two share, we need to set it aside. This is about global threats, not personal grievances.”

Bruce gave her a look, his eyes narrowing beneath the cowl. “It’s not personal.”

Diana arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Isn’t it?”

“I agree with Diana,” Clark said, his voice steady and diplomatic as always. “We don’t have to like them, Bruce, but the Avengers are powerful allies. And let’s be honest, they probably think the same about us. They don’t know how we operate any more than we know them.”

“They have Captain America,” Victor added, speaking up for the first time. “He’s disciplined and focused. If anyone can keep Stark in line, it’s Rogers.”

Bruce huffed, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepling beneath his chin as he stared at the blank space where the hologram had been.

“Let’s just hope Rogers is as good as everyone thinks,” he muttered. “Because Stark alone will have us cleaning up his messes in no time.”

Barry tilted his head. “Do you think it’s weird that their whole team is named after him? Like, the Stark...vengers.”

Arthur snorted. “That’s not what it’s called, kid.”

“It might as well be,” Bruce said dryly.

Clark sighed, ever the voice of reason. “Let’s focus. We’ll need to establish some kind of system for communication and coordination. We can’t let egos, on either side, get in the way.”

Diana nodded. “Agreed. If this alliance is going to work, we need to show them we’re as committed as they are.” She glanced at Bruce. “Even if that means extending an olive branch.”

Bruce’s scowl deepened, but he said nothing. The truth was, he’d already accepted that this collaboration was necessary. He didn’t have to like it, but he would do what needed to be done.

After a moment, he stood, his cape sweeping behind him as he headed for the door. “Let me know when the next call is scheduled,” he said over his shoulder. “And someone remind Stark that this isn’t a game.”

As the door slid shut behind him, Barry glanced at Diana with a grin. “He’s definitely taking it personally.”

Diana smirked but didn’t respond. There was no need, everyone in the room already knew the truth. That didnt stop Clark from following him.

The Justice League sat around the conference table in the Watchtower, the room quieter than usual. Bruce and Clark were absent, leaving the others with the space to speak freely, though the topic at hand was one they approached with caution. Diana broke the silence first.

“Do we think this... tension between Bruce and Stark will affect the mission?” she asked, her gaze sweeping over the group.

Arthur leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “It’s Bruce. He’ll do the job. He always does. But let’s not pretend he’s thrilled about working with Stark.”

Barry nodded quickly, looking between the others. “Yeah, I mean, Bruce is all about compartmentalizing. He’ll show up, save the day, glare at Tony a bit, and then go back to brooding in the Batcave. Right?”

Victor sighed, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t know. This feels... different. He’s not just annoyed with Stark. It’s personal.”

“Of course it’s personal,” Diana said, her tone firm but not unkind. “Stark abandoned someone Bruce cares about. And not just anyone, his family. You’ve all seen how fiercely Bruce protects those he considers his own. This isn’t something he’ll let go of easily.”

Arthur rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Yeah, but that’s exactly why we should be worried. If Bruce gets too caught up in his feelings, it could cloud his judgment.”

“Do you really think he’d let that happen?” Barry asked, his voice uncertain.

Diana shook her head. “No. Bruce is disciplined, perhaps more than any of us. But even the most disciplined warrior can falter when the heart is involved. We should keep an eye on him.”

Victor leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I think we should be more concerned about what happens when Stark pushes him. You know he’s going to. That guy thrives on getting under people’s skin.”

Barry winced. “Yeah, that’s... not great. Bruce isn’t exactly the ‘let it slide’ type.”

Arthur shrugged. “If Stark tries something, Bruce will handle it. Probably by terrifying the guy into silence. Honestly, I’m kind of looking forward to seeing that.”

Diana shot him a look. “This isn’t a game, Arthur.”

He held up his hands defensively. “I know, I know. But you have to admit, Stark could use a reality check. Hes convinced his little group is the what.. ‘Protectors of the world’ he doesn't even know the half of it.”

Victor sighed again. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that. We’ve got enough to deal with without Bruce and Stark butting heads.”

Diana nodded, her expression resolute. “Agreed. We focus on the mission. And if Bruce needs support, we’ll be there for him.”

The group exchanged quiet looks of agreement, the weight of their unspoken trust in Bruce heavy in the air. Whatever came next, they’d face it together.

Clark caught up with Bruce just as he stepped into the Watchtower corridor, his boots barely making a sound on the metallic floor.

“Bruce, wait.” Clark’s voice was calm, but it held that familiar note of persistence, the one Bruce always found annoyingly difficult to ignore.

Bruce didn’t slow his stride. “What is it, Clark?”

“You know what this is about,” Clark said, quickening his pace to match Bruce’s long strides.

Bruce stopped abruptly, turning to face Clark. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his jaw gave away his frustration. “If you’re here to lecture me about Stark, don’t bother. I’ve heard it all before.”

Clark folded his arms, standing firm. “I’m not here to lecture you. I just want to understand why you’re so...hostile toward him. It’s more than professional distrust, isn’t it?”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “Stark is reckless. He plays with fire and pretends it’s all a game. That kind of behavior puts everyone around him at risk.”

Clark tilted his head, studying Bruce with his unerring, patient gaze. “You’re deflecting.”

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m stating facts.”

“Maybe,” Clark said gently. “But that’s not the whole truth.”

Bruce turned away, his cape sweeping behind him as he started walking again. “I don’t have time for this.”

Clark followed, his voice firm now. “Bruce, you’ve always been honest with me. Why stop now? This isn’t just about Tony being Iron Man. It’s personal. I can see it.”

Bruce stopped again, his fists clenching at his sides. For a moment, the silence was thick, his shoulders rising and falling as he wrestled with whatever storm was brewing inside him.

Finally, he turned back to Clark, his voice low and sharp. “You want the truth? Fine. Stark walked away from something he had no right to walk away from. He abandoned someone who deserved better, someone I care about. And now I have to sit at a table with him, pretending like none of it happened.”

Clark blinked, surprised by the raw emotion in Bruce’s tone. “You’re talking about her, aren’t you?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it. “And Damian,” he bit out. “He left her to deal with everything on her own. And now that boy, my son, has to wonder why the man who gave him life didn’t think he was worth staying for.”

Clark’s expression softened, his voice quiet. “Bruce...you’ve done everything for them. Damian doesn’t see Stark as his father. He sees you.”

“I know,” Bruce said, his voice still tight with restrained anger. “But that doesn’t erase what he did, or didn’t do. Now I have to tolerate his smug ass face like it doesn’t matter.It's going to be one of the hardest things Ive ever had to do as Batman.”

Clark placed a reassuring hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “It does matter. But you’ve already won, Bruce. You’re the one who’s been there. You’re the one they trust. Stark may have walked away, but you’re the one who stayed.

Bruce let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly under the weight of Clark’s words. “It doesn’t make it easier.”

“No,” Clark agreed. “But it makes you the better man.”

Bruce gave a small nod, the storm in his eyes calming, though the resolve remained. Without another word, he turned and continued down the corridor, this time with a quieter, steadier step. Clark watched him go, knowing there were some wounds time couldn’t completely heal, but also knowing Bruce was the kind of man who wouldn’t let them stop him from doing what was right.

The tension Bruce had been carrying since the meeting with the League eased as he descended into the Batcave. The familiar hum of the computers, the glow of the monitors, and the soft rustle of activity always gave him a sense of focus, but tonight, something else caught his attention before anything else could.

You were sitting at the workstation, your legs tucked under you on the chair, completely absorbed in the screens in front of you. The live feed showed Jason and Dick out on patrol, their banter coming through faintly on the speakers. You looked so at home there, wrapped in one of his old Princeton hoodies that practically swallowed you. Your hair was slightly messy, and you had paired the hoodie with simple leggings and fuzzy slippers. It was such a domestic, unguarded moment that it stole the breath right out of him.

Bruce paused at the base of the stairs, just watching you. His heart gave an unexpected, almost painful skip. This, this was everything he never thought he’d have. Everything he never let himself hope for.

The weight of the earlier confrontation with Clark and the looming alliance with Tony Stark felt like a distant memory as he stood there. For all his plans and calculations, he couldn’t imagine ever being stupid enough to not want this. To not want you.

You must have sensed his presence because you turned, your expression brightening instantly when you saw him. “Hey, you’re back,” you said, your voice soft and warm. You gestured to the screen. “Jason and Dick are trying to see who can take out more guys tonight. It’s a whole thing now.”

He moved closer, his lips tugging into the faintest of smiles. “And you’re the official scorekeeper?”

You grinned. “Of course. Someone has to keep them honest.”

Bruce didn’t respond immediately. He just stood there for a moment, looking at you, the glow of the monitors casting a soft light on your face. You looked so peaceful, so natural sitting there. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the ache in his chest wasn’t from worry or guilt, it was from an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over your shoulder, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “You look comfortable,” he murmured, his voice low.

You glanced down at yourself with a small laugh. “Well, your hoodies are the best, and I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.” You gave him a knowing look. “Not all of us have secret identities to maintain.”

Bruce’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile, one that reached his eyes. “You don’t need one. You’re perfect just like this.”

The sincerity in his tone made you pause, your cheeks flushing slightly as you looked back at the screen to avoid his gaze. “You’re getting sappy, Mr. Wayne.”

“Maybe I am,” he said quietly, stepping closer so that his hand rested lightly on your shoulder again. “But only because I’ve finally realized what’s worth it.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your expression softening as you met his gaze. “What’s that?”

“You,” he said simply. “I wouldn’t trade our family for anything.”

Your smile widened, Bruce eased into the chair beside you, the weight of the day finally starting to melt away. As soon as he sat down, you instinctively climbed into his lap, a move that had become natural. He welcomed you without hesitation, his arms winding securely around you, one hand gently ran up and down your back. His lips brushed your temple softly before he leaned back into the chair with a sigh.

You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. It was a sound you’d grown to love, it grounded you, made you feel safe. But you could tell something was weighing on him. His touch was soft, but his silence spoke volumes.

You tilted your head to look up at him, your eyes searching his face. “You’re thinking about something,” you said gently, tracing slow circles on his chest with your fingertips. “Want to talk about it?”

For a moment, Bruce hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. But then he looked down at you, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. There was no point in keeping anything from you, not when you always seemed to see right through him anyway.

“It’s about Damian,” he said quietly, his voice deep and thoughtful. His hand stilled on your back but stayed firmly in place, anchoring both of you in the moment. “We talked before the gala. About... Tony.”

You nodded slightly, encouraging him to continue. “How did it go?”

Bruce exhaled slowly, his gaze distant as he recalled the conversation. “He asked me if Tony would be there. I could see it in his eyes, he was trying to act indifferent, but he wasn’t. He’s... curious. Hurt, maybe. And I hate that. I hate that Stark’s absence, his choice, still lingers over him, even after all this time.” His jaw tightened. “I told him I’d always be there for him, that nothing Stark ever says or does will change the fact that I’m his father. But... I could tell it still bothers him.”

You reached up, cupping his jaw and guiding his gaze back to yours. “You are his father, Bruce. You’ve been there for him every step of the way. You’ve shown him what real love and commitment look like. He knows that.”

Bruce searched your eyes, as if looking for reassurance. “I just, he’s mine. My son. I want him to know that he doesn’t need Stark to validate anything. He has a family, a real family.”

“He does,” you said softly, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “And he knows it. But it’s okay for him to have questions, Bruce. He’s young, and this is complicated. Just keep being there for him like you always have. That’s all he needs.”

Bruce’s arms tightened around you, his gaze softening as he rested his forehead against yours. “You always know what to say,” he murmured.

You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “That’s because I know you. And I know how much you love Damian. He’s lucky to have you.”

Bruce pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, his hand on your back sliding up to cradle the back of your head. When he pulled back, his eyes were clearer, the weight of the conversation seeming lighter now. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he admitted quietly.

“You’ll never have to find out,” you promised, resting your head back on his chest. In that moment, everything felt right, like the world outside the Batcave could wait, at least for a little while.

The conference room aboard the Avengers Compound was quieter now, with the Justice League’s call ended. The tension left behind, however, was anything but subtle. Steve Rogers stood near the large table, his arms crossed, the weight of frustration evident in his posture. Across from him, Tony Stark casually leaned against the table’s edge, arms spread as if trying to shrug off the intensity with nonchalance. But Steve wasn’t buying it.

“Tony,” Steve started, his voice firm, though not angry, yet. “What the hell was that?”

Tony raised a brow, feigning innocence. “What was what? You’ll have to be more specific, Cap. I do a lot of things.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “You know what I mean. The quips, the jabs, picking a fight with Batman of all people. We’re supposed to be working with them, not starting a pissing contest.”

Tony scoffed and waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, come on. You heard him. The guy’s a walking mood swing in Kevlar. I wasn’t picking a fight, I was making things... lively. Besides, do we even trust them yet?”

Steve stepped forward, pointing a finger at Tony. “This isn’t about trust. It’s about professionalism. You know how high the stakes are, Tony. This isn’t some boardroom negotiation where you can snark your way through it. You need to stop acting like this.”

Tony’s easy demeanor faltered for a split second, his defenses bristling. “Like what?” he challenged, crossing his arms.

“Like the guy you were before the first Snap,” Steve shot back, his tone hardening. “You’ve come so far since then, Tony. You’ve grown, you’ve changed. Don’t throw all of that out the window just because you’re in a room with someone who challenges your ego.”

Tony straightened, his posture stiffening. “This isn’t about ego. Something about the guy rubs me wrong!”

“Isn’t it?” Steve countered, his voice calm but sharp. “You know what we’re facing. You know how important it is that we work together. But instead of focusing on that, you’re busy throwing out cheap insults and one-liners like we’re still fighting Loki in Germany. You’re better than this.”

For a moment, Tony was silent, his expression unreadable. Then he exhaled heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Steve, I, ”

“No excuses,” Steve interrupted. “You’re not that guy anymore, Tony. You’re the guy who built a suit to save his life and then used it to save the world. You’re the guy who put himself on the line, again and again, for people you care about. You’re the guy who’s supposed to be a leader.”

Tony looked away, his jaw tightening. “I wasn’t trying to ruin anything,” he muttered, almost too quietly for Steve to hear.

“I know,” Steve said, his tone softening slightly. “But you can’t let your past habits creep back in. Not now. We need you focused. We need the Tony who’s grown into the man who gave us a second chance after the Snap.”

Tony’s gaze flicked back to Steve, something unspoken passing between them. Finally, he gave a small nod, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction.

“Alright, Rogers,” Tony said, his voice quieter but still carrying a hint of his usual bravado. “I’ll dial it back. But don’t expect me to roll out the red carpet for Bat-Dad. I’ve got my limits.”

Steve smirked faintly, shaking his head. “Just... try. For all of us.”

Tony tilted his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “You know me, Cap. I always aim to impress.”

“Do it for the mission,” Steve corrected firmly. “Not for me. And definitely not for Batman.”

Tony raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. For the mission. But if I see him brooding in the shadows, I reserve the right to make one Bat-joke.”

Steve rolled his eyes but let the faintest smile show. “One. That’s it.”

Tony smirked, his trademark charm slipping back into place. “Deal.”

A FEW DAYS LATER

The dim glow of the Batcave illuminated Damian’s face as he sat alone at one of the workstations. In his hand was a photograph he had found and tore out of a tabloid as a few years ago—Tony Stark, smirking and effortlessly charming as always. Damian’s fingers traced the edges of the picture, his brow furrowed in thought. He had been sitting there for a while, lost in his own head, when he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps descending the stairs.

“Hey, Demon Spawn,” Jason’s voice broke the silence, casual but laced with curiosity. “What are you doing down here all broody? That’s usually Bruce’s thing.”

Damian glanced up but didn’t say anything, his expression unreadable.

Dick appeared right behind Jason, his tone lighter as he tried to gauge the mood. “We figured we’d find you down here. Thought you might want some company.”

Jason leaned against a nearby workbench, arms crossed. “Yeah, or at least someone to make fun of. But looks like you’ve got something on your mind.” He nodded toward the photograph in Damian’s hand. “What’s that?”

Damian hesitated, his grip on the picture tightening slightly before he held it up for them to see. “It’s... Tony Stark.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Huh. That’s a surprise. Didn’t think he was your type.” He smirked, but his tone was teasing rather than mean.

Dick shot Jason a look before pulling up a chair next to Damian. “Ignore him. What’s going on, Damian?”

For a moment, Damian didn’t answer. He stared down at the photograph, his voice quieter than usual when he finally spoke. “I’ve been thinking about him since the gala. About what it means that... he’s my biological father.” He swallowed hard, his usual confidence wavering. “I feel... conflicted. I don’t know him, and yet I feel bad that I don’t want to. Is that wrong?”

The room was silent for a moment, the weight of Damian’s words settling over them. Dick leaned forward, placing a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “Hey, listen to me. It’s not wrong to feel that way. You’re allowed to be curious, to have questions. And you’re allowed to feel conflicted about it too. This isn’t an easy thing to navigate.”

Jason uncrossed his arms and stepped closer, his tone softer than usual. “Yeah, kid. Nobody here is going to judge you for that. Hell, I’d be surprised if you didn’t have mixed feelings. Stark might’ve been a crappy dad, but that doesn’t mean you can’t figure out how you feel about him in your own time.”

Damian looked between them, his brow furrowing. “But what if I want to meet him? What if I want to ask him why he... why he didn’t want me?”

Dick’s expression softened, his voice steady. “If that’s what you want, we’ll support you. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. This is your life, Damian. And you’ve got a family here who loves you no matter what.”

Jason nodded, his usual sarcasm absent. “Yeah. If you want to meet him, then meet him. And if you decide you don’t want to, that’s okay too. Either way, you’re still our little brother, Demon Spawn.”

Damian’s grip on the photo loosened, and for the first time that evening, a faint smile touched his lips. “Thank you. Both of you.”

Dick ruffled Damian’s hair, earning a glare that was more habit than genuine annoyance. “Anytime, kiddo. Just remember, you don’t have to figure it all out at once your still a kid. We’re here for you, whatever you decide.”

Jason smirked. “Yeah, and if Stark gives you any crap, we’ll handle him. I’ve been itching for a good fight anyway.”

Damian chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

Jason grinned. “And you’re stuck with me.”

The soft hum of the kitchen filled the early morning air as you flipped through your mental checklist for breakfast. You wore one of Bruce’s oversized shirts, sleeves rolled up, and your hair loosely tied back. The aroma of coffee and warm pancakes lingered in the air, a comforting start to the day.

Jason was, as always, up early with you. He leaned casually against the counter, sleep still clinging to him but his loyalty to “helping Mom” unwavering. He had already cracked the eggs and was busy whisking them, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You know,” he said, pausing his whisking to glance at you, “Dick thinks I only do this because I want to score brownie points with Alfred. But we know better, don’t we?”

You laughed softly, nudging him with your elbow as you passed. “Jason, you’re a momma’s boy through and through. Own it.”

He snorted, grabbing a spatula to start flipping the pancakes you’d poured. “Yeah, yeah. Guilty as charged. You make it too easy.”

For a while, it was just the two of you moving in sync—pouring, flipping, and chatting about nothing in particular. But then, Jason’s movements slowed, and you caught him glancing your way, an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked gently, setting down the whisk.

He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck before sighing. “It’s about Damian. Something came up last night.”

You turned to face him fully, concern immediately flickering to life. “What happened?”

Jason leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “I found him down in the Batcave late last night, staring at a picture of Stark.”

Your heart sank. “Oh.”

“He’s... struggling,” Jason continued, his voice quieter now. “He said he feels bad for not wanting to know Stark, but at the same time, he’s curious. Like, he wants answers, but he’s scared of what they might be.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you processed that. “Did he say anything else?”

Jason’s gaze softened, and he shook his head. “Not much. But it’s eating at him. Kid’s trying to figure out how he feels about a guy who walked out before he was even born. That’s a lot for anyone to deal with, let alone Damian.”

Your hand instinctively moved to his shoulder, the maternal instinct to protect all of your children—biological or not—kicking in. “And you? How did you handle it?”

Jason smirked faintly, though there was no teasing in his tone. “I told him he’s got a family here, no matter what. That we’d support him if he wants to meet Stark, or if he doesn’t. It’s his choice, and no one’s gonna judge him for it.”

Tears pricked your eyes, and you stepped closer, cupping Jason’s cheek in your hand. “You’re such a good brother, Jay.”

He rolled his eyes, though his cheeks reddened slightly. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep him in line. Can’t let Demon Spawn carry all that by himself.”

You smiled, pulling him into a quick hug. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll talk to him.”

Jason hugged you back, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “Just don’t make it obvious I spilled, okay? Gotta keep my cool big brother reputation intact.”

You laughed, pulling back and ruffling his hair. “Your secret’s safe with me, Momma’s boy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grabbed the spatula again, turning back to the stove. “Now let’s finish this up before Alfred comes in and critiques our technique. Again.”

As the two of you returned to your morning routine, you couldn’t help but feel a swell of gratitude for the family you’d built. No matter the challenges, you knew you’d all face them together.

The Avengers had gathered in the common room, screens arranged in a semicircle as they decided to delve deeper into their new counterparts—the Justice League. Captain America thought it would help the team prepare for collaboration, and surprisingly, Tony had agreed, though he called it "research with entertainment value."

They started with clips of Superman, Wonder Woman, and Flash, marveling at their powers and unique approaches to heroics. But when the video on Batman began to play, the room’s energy shifted.

The screen flickered to a chaotic scene, grainy security footage capturing Gotham City at its worst. The Joker's maniacal laughter echoed through the speakers, a sharp contrast to the silent figure of Batman moving in the shadows. And then the camera panned, and the room went silent.

You.

You were on your knees, your face pale but defiant, a blade pressed to your throat by a grinning Joker. Your hands were tied behind your back, your body tense but not trembling. The Joker’s voice rang out, taunting, “Oh, Batsy, I know your secret! Tell me, how does it feel to have your precious everything in my hands?”

The Avengers collectively leaned forward, the tension palpable.

"Wait," Natasha said sharply, her eyes narrowing. “Is that…?”

“It’s her,” Steve confirmed, his voice heavy with concern.

On-screen, Batman moved closer, his voice low and commanding. “Let her go, Joker. Now.”

The Joker laughed harder, pressing the knife closer to your skin. “Oh, you’ve got your serious voice on, don’t you? But it doesn’t scare me, Batsy. Because if I go down, I’m taking your whole little game with me. How’s that sound?”

Tony froze, his gaze glued to the screen. He recognized that look on your face—the mixture of fear and defiance, the stubbornness that wouldn’t let you beg for mercy. And then the words hit him like a truck.

“Shes always known who Batman was? This is dated from just a few months after she left. ” Natasha said slowly, her voice laced with realization.

“She knows,” Bruce Banner echoed, his brows furrowing. “And the Joker knows she knows.”

Steve shook his head, his jaw tightening. “That’s why Batman’s so desperate. He’s not just trying to save a hostage—he’s trying to save her.”

The footage jumped ahead, showing Batman finally taking down the Joker and pulling you to safety. The moment he untied your hands and pulled you close, his mask briefly brushed your temple. It wasn’t just relief in his body language—it was something deeper, something the Avengers couldn’t ignore.

“And she knows who he is,” Steve repeated, his tone troubled. “This isn’t just a partnership between her husband and a hero group.. There’s trust there—more than we’ve seen from him in anything else with anyone else.”

The room fell quiet, the weight of the realization settling over the team.

Thor, who had been unusually silent, finally spoke. “It seems our ally is more connected to the Bat than we were led to believe. But that does not change who she is—a formidable woman in her own right.”

Natasha nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “No, it doesn’t. But it does mean she’s got a target on her back, one bigger than any of us thought.” Bucky looked towards his love, he knew her well, she knew more than she was letting on as well.

Tony exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing at the frozen image of Batman carrying you away from the chaos. “We’re gonna have to have a conversation with her. If she’s tied to him like that, we need to know everything.”

Steve looked over at him, his gaze steady. “No, Stark. If she wants to tell us, she will. It’s not our place to push. Right now her and her husband are the only link we have to batman, and in turn the Justice Leauge. You promised.”

Tony didn’t respond immediately, but the frustration in his expression was evident. Finally, he muttered, “Fine.”

The Avengers sat in silence for a moment longer before Clint turned back to the screen. “So… are we gonna finish watching, or are we just gonna sit here brooding like Batman?”

#batman #batman x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #batmom #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x you

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gallusrostromegalus · 9 months ago

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Does the weather in the Soul Society differ from that in the world of the living? As in, are there never Thunderstorms in the Seireitei because of the barrier? Are weather phenomena chased by the environment or by Kami and spirits or both? Do Zanpakutō influence the weather with their releases? As in, it stays frosty for a long while after Hyōrinmaru or there's a storm for a while after Sasakibe?

The weather in soul society is broadly better that in the living world because they don't have global warming, but often specifically worse because there are Kami and Zanpakuto other weird things wandering around doing unlicenced meteorology.

It's why Zaraki's mom has the position and title she does. She Who Rules The Sky By The Mandate Of Heaven was appointed to her job by Nobody Themselves because Shinso had told him that some of the Kami were getting rowdy and causing calamities. At least some disturbance is key for any environment, but this was excessive, so Nobody chose The Great Firebird, daughter of Wind and Flame and still burning with divine power despite being totally of the spiritual plane, to make sure things didn't get Too Rowdy. Being eagles, her brother Kikoo is only about two thirds her size and simply not in the necessary weight class.

The Seireitei in particular has fucked up weather, but not because of the barrier. It only filters out things above a specific threshold of spiritual power, so birds and clouds and spiders or whatever can pass through uninterrupted. Seireitei has fucked weather because it's:

1. A city, a thing that get notably hotter than the surrounding area

2. The only elevated feature for dozens of miles on a large flat plain

3. Is full of weather-effecting Zanpakuto.

The first two features lead to the Seireitei getting way more thunderstorms than the surrounding area- clouds catch on the city mount and heat spike, and release their rain and thunder. It also gets more intense blizzards for the same reason.

Zanpakuto, especially powerful ones with Bankai can effect the weather in say, their district of the city, but Seireitei is HUGE and Hitsugaya training in the 10th won't change the weather in the 7th (as much as Komamura wishes it would), but it will dry things out in the 11th, something Yumichika bitchea about loudly while applying more lotion.

The way elemental Zanpakuto effect the weather is somewhat counterintuitive though:

Hyorinmaru and other ice Zanpakuto suck a lot of ambient moisture out of the air for their attacks, or cause it to freeze out of the air into frost, so the air around the Hitsugaya and Rukia tends to be kind of dry.

Ryujin Jakka and Haineko can often increase the humidity because the rise in temperature will make any standing water evaporate. Until a certain point when they dry things out again by sheer heat pushing all the moisture into the stratosphere. Yamamoto often makes a little cumulonimbus over wherever he's training.

Electrical Zanpakuto are actually really important for weather mitigation, since setting off a lightning bolt on command is a lot safer than waiting for a random bolt to hit who knows where, and doing so reduces the overall ionization. Part of the reason Sasakibe gets along so well with Yamamoto is that the heat of Ryujin Jakka ionizes the air for Gonryomaru, making the latter's strikes more powerful.

Water Zanpakuto are a mixed bag. Some pull moisture from the air like ice Zanpakuto do, but others bring their own with them. Minazuki tends to make things humid because she has a body made of flesh that drinks water (Unohana frequently has to take her to the beach so she can drink and soak) and respirates it back out. Miss Fish can fog up windows for blocks around in under an hour just by breathing.

Wind Zanpakuto like Kazeshini aren't nearly as effective at changing weather as they are at combat, simply because it takes so much less energy to fuck with the volume of air in someone's lungs than it does the MASSIVE volume of a cloud.

#aeiwam #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic

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parasolladyansy · 3 months ago

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Just curious, how did they move Galaxy Hall to where Jubilife City would be?

My dude! ^o^ Galaxy Hall is in Jubilife Village, which becomes Jubilife City (aka Pokémon Sapporo, the capital of Hokkaido).

Looking at the two maps, it isn’t a one-for-one match; they did a lot of building up after all, & it seems like they leveled the small hills surrounding it, installing stairs at the four entrances, fences around the city itself, & planting dense conifer forests. However, they seem to have kept the same basic format.

One can look at this map & interpret the long horizontal road where the river is 150 years ago, making the Jubilife TV station where Galaxy Hall is today. As you see in DxP REWRITE, I chose a different interpretation:

I think (& is the canon for DxP REWRITE) the whole of Jubilife Village was in the front half of Jubilife City, which is everything before the long horizontal road connecting to Canalave & Oreburgh Cities, & here’s why:

I once compared the school with Galaxy Hall (both brick buildings, very similar shape to its structure with the chimneys, the round window in front, etc), but to the right of it is the PKMN Center, standing about where your house is in Legends Arceus (where you rest up & heal, like a PKMN Center). The Poké Mart is behind the PKMN Center, unlike in Jubilife Village where the row of shops were in front of your house, but that could’ve been a infrastructure decision as they built up the Jubilife Condominiums where the residential area was.

Over to the left is the Global Trade Station (or Global Wonder Station in BDSP), where I think the Training Grounds once stood. Apart from the similar structure to the buildings (clearly they tore down the dojo for a more modern structure), in Platinum you can not only do trades, but check Trainer Rankings as well as Battle Video Rankings.

Again, it isn’t a one-for-one. It has been 150 years, & we’re comparing a city designed in the DS with a village designed for the Switch. The same could be said about comparing modern Sinnoh with old Hisui; modern changes aside, you just can’t perfectly compare the more organic format of the map in Legends Arceus with the very pixel, square format in DPPt or BDSP (again, huge missed opportunity).

I actually love doing things like this though; I used to do similar things in Zelda, comparing different maps of Hyrule in games that have less time passing between them on the timeline, but similar / the same locations (eg. Ocarina of Time vs Twilight Princess).

I still have ideas for Sinnoh vs. Hisui floating around that’ll probably show up come the next DxP comics, so look forward to that!

#pokemon #BDSP #legends arceus #lore #maps #headcanon #theorizing #DxP REWRITE ask #thanks for the ask!#got to geek out there lol

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joaofelix70 · 1 year ago

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MISS DIPLOMAT & MR. CHARMING |

dominik szoboszlai x female reader.

author's note: this handsome man's living rent-free in my head. he's a freaking masterpiece. talented, funny, charismatic, attractive. i watched interviews, tiktok videos made by supporters and much more to understand a little bit of his language, personality and what he does towards friends and loved ones. laughed a lot! i made my homework as a writer, hope you enjoy it! (compliments and any kind of retributions are more than welcomed).

summary: your job is involving the commitment of unify the population and create interrelations to another countries, using the eurocup qualifiers and the hungary national team executions. you just didn't expect to fall in love with the no. 10's captain player.

words and characters: 1,811/11,223. it was three days working too hard on this story. i'm begging for your consideration, lol.

────

sports diplomacy: it's the unique power of sport to bring people, nations, and communities closer together via a shared love of physical pursuits. this responsibility is the reason of a transition between strangers to connected individuals, advancing foreign policy goals and augmenting sport for development initiatives. the complex landscape where sport, politics, and diplomacy overlap become clearer, as do the pitfalls of using sport as a tool for overcoming and mediating separation between people, nonstate actors, and states. the power of sport has never been more important. so far, the 21st century has been dominated by disintegration, introspection, and the retreat of the nation-state from the globalization agenda. in such an environment, scholars, students, and practitioners of international relations are beginning to rethink how sport might be used to tackle climate change, gender inequality, and the united nations sustainable development goals, for example. to boost these integrative, positive efforts is to focus on the means as well as the ends, that is, the diplomacy, plural networks, and processes involved in the role sport can play in tackling the monumental traditional and human security challenges of our time. credits: international studies association and oxford university press.

────

MLSZ (hungarian football federation) ──

new training ground at telki.

"i can't believe that being in places like this made up my most theoretically utopian childhood dreams. what a progress in front of me!" you still witness exciting moments where you pinch yourself, trying to believe in the reality that surrounds you: visiting the new training center of the players who are just a few meters away from you, getting ready to represent an entire country.

"your presence is our privilege. a voice of the spread of eurocup to our nation, right here…" the technical director gives you deference, obtaining a measure of humbleness and respect by you.

"the honor belongs to me in its entirety. grateful for having me, sir. while the view is immersive and captivating — my fervent congratulations to everyone involved — could we retreat from the pleasant glass-enclosed room and see everything closer, on the outside? please? i will never get used to this atmosphere." you pour politeness and charisma to the staffs around you, being directed to the proximity of the field and saluting the employees who pass through your path.

meet dominik — your szobo — instigates the nostalgic combination of detailed moments in which your thoughts display as photographic retrospectives. you're incapable to oppose the little enthusiastic laughs, fidgeting the rings between your fingers and avoiding possible suspicious glances from others. however, for you, this wouldn't actually work. the lives of you both are correlated, but different.

the training session is finished. clapping your hands and celebrating the performances, you greet the athletes and recognize some familiar people. nevertheless, reality slows down after those dark woody eyes capture through your soul. his arms tattoos are glorified by the sun's rays, the same illuminated smile is offered to you: that one you got during the very first time you saw him — instantly knowing he made you testimony the accuracy of freedom, catharsis and emotional amorous complement. that he'd be the one to introduce you what you never experienced, what you thought you'd never receive or deserve. what love truly is. when you were novices in your actual professions, not even imagining the future gifts of your unreal purposes.

"there you are!" intimately, dominik points at you, being reciprocated by vibrant nods and your old sort of secret — not that mysterious or serious — handshake. "még mindig emlékszel rá? (still remembering it?). you're a real one!"

"hogy tudnám elfelejteni? alábecsülsz engem. (how could i forget it? you're underestimating me)". your defensive actions demonstrate purposeful falseness. masking any sensitive, verbal or figurative communicative fragment from him is a difficulty that makes you give in over time. honestly, you never complain about this. it's like he wants to understand the factors and layers of you.

"a te kézfogás fickó. ne merészelj lecserélni engem. (your handshake man… don't you dare to replace me)". a shameless wink is send to you, butterflies acquiring space in your stomach.

"és hivatalosan is a szavamat adom rá. (and you officially have my word on it)." your gloss is pigmented against your fingers while you raise it up, displaying an oath, wondering if szoboszlai comprehends that his replacement in your life would be blasphemous.

"diplomata kisasszony, (miss diplomat)…" the hungarian fingerprints are shared and you recognize the sign to hold them, ready to perform your typical fashion icon moment. "gorgeous as always. go ahead! you know what to do!".

amusement surrounds you with the nickname's citation. although, you could feel some curious glances, from the outsiders, about the intimacy between you and him. "i appreciate, our top-class national bless…" you move your body in rotations to exclaim the outfit's characteristics, lifting your feet to show off the specificities of your heels. "how is your hair so well-groomed after sweating, though?" your arms cross and you raise an eyebrow in questioning, trying to hide your fascination.

"thank you, my number-one fan, but don't change the subject. finish our inside joke, c'mon!" dominik grabs his water bottle and spreads the cooling liquid on his forehead, wiping the glowing droplets across his face as he lifted his jersey high enough to exhibits his fortified abs.

your attention is directed to any surrounding scenery, throat being piked. szoboszlai pretends he doesn't notice, preventing to embarrass you.

"alright, alright! you've won, bájos úr… (mr. charming)". your final comment escapes as, practically, a whisper. you can't control the shy laughter, coupled with the considerable redness invading your cheeks.

"that's the secret to make my day!" using his tongue to reproduce a sharp noise, he matches your humorous reactions. "would you like me to show you the infrastructure changes? i'm just gonna take a shower!"

"i've already been granted a tour around here, but in case you insist…" during the dialogue, some athletes cross your space, wishing them good luck for the competition. your concentration on the activity is significant, at the point that dominik's silent admiration goes unnoticed.

"i mean, you know me! i'm gonna insist anyway, so…" he reaches your captivity, bringing you jollification.

"i'll rate you as a personal tour guide. now, go there!" jesting each other, you both exchange exaggerated reverences, like a challenge of who makes the most chaotic one.

────

walking around the area, various subjects are explored, informations entrusted. you ask and are updated about his ethereal younger sister.

portraits of the generations are framed. you magnifies his presence in celebratory pictures, dedicated to find him in the memories and achievements on that wall. pride shines from you and the hungarian finds it lovely.

"you know i'm a sucker for accents… they're much more than mere verbal characteristics, they're stories: life experiences, marks and scars. identities and cultural integrations." the topic is random. through generalized opinions, you're explaining conceptions and dominik is retaining mental observations. he exalts every scrap of your identity, like a faithful worshiper.

"basically, you're admitting being enchanted by my accent. i can see the stars in your eyes. a win is a win!" szoboszlai and his frequent attribute to physical touch, tickling your ears and playing with them. it doesn't bother you, actually: adoring the affection exuded by you and him. you feel like a little girl dealing with your one and only love.

"it's beautiful, how can you blame me? and hey, i know mine's making you grin too." he holds your arm, shivers running down your spine, the two of you being euphoric in the midst of your own enthusiasm.

"putting me against the wall? okay, hum… what were you saying before?" he's changing the subject and you have a natural wit to boo him. lifting his shoulders as a surrender, the hungarian focuses on the specific loose strands of his simple bracelet, which you get used to help him tie it again, willingly.

"trying to avoid the truth? fine! let me take care of you while i talk about my admiration towards globalization and communication. like, with every fiber of me…" you accept the conversation's direction and utter a 'voilà' towards the accessory's new appearance.

"that's why you're the best person i've ever seen doing this job." dominik compliments you, an act full of honesty.

"thanks a lot, mate. but which job? as your bracelet helper or my real one?" you provide tenderness, looking amused.

"i mean… both of them." szoboszlai chuckles, revealing courtesy by your continuous helpfulness.

"literally? because i know you know a lot of people. you're so young and already is the national team's captain." you nudge him in a form of tease. he's a starboy, it's undeniable.

"flattered! literally, thought. you were born for this, believe me." vulnerability collides to you, as his words are deliberated: emotions embracing you and warming your insides.

"dominik szoboszlai, my dear friend, you're gonna make me cry, right here. i'm sorry, i need to do it…"

innocent satisfaction builds strength over you and executes unthought-of approach to the tangibility of your gratitude — his colony enrapturing your sensitive olfaction — in the most out-of-control way. the sounds reach your hearing: a choir of angels singing hallelujah. he reciprocates the contact, laughing at your juvenile excitement. joining him and doing the same thing, harmonizing the triumph. in the separation of the touch, you both remain close to each other and the hungarian doesn't miss the opportunity to feel the softness of your side face, caressing the skin. appreciation and satisfaction invade your structure, delighting on the palm of his hand.

"just a dear friend? why are we pretending all this time?" dominik's reading you. the intimidation at the sight of him overhanging you is paralyzing. you don't usually back down, but in that instant — superior than your most repressed desires — your gasps are escaped.

"who is putting who against the wall now?" insisting and failing on your witty answers, shyness and uncertainty corrodes you.

"please, look at me! i'm not kidding anymore." his voice is questioning, intrigued — contradictorily vulnerable and calm — your rationality being fragmented, fragile.

"you know i'm not the kind of woman you're surrounding by, domi. i'm not an influencer, bikini model. i'm not a public figure. i don't live for the cameras and gossip platforms. i live to work hard. i didn't achieve any of this with some type of perk. my routine and your routine are based on traveling..." who could deny it? szoboszlai's always been all that you see. it's much more than a mere passion. your attraction to him is magnetic, intense, vivid. consequently, terrifying.

"i'm just asking for a chance, (your nickname). i don't lie when i say i've never met someone like you. i may be surrounded by a crowd and you'll still be the one to steal my attention, because nobody compares to you."

your eyelids are closed and the exhalation of his sigh penetrates your lungs with the numbing breath of life you've never experienced before. it's happening: the rare situation where thinking carefully about the pros and cons is unworthy, dumbness. your decision is made and the privilege's resolution unify your lips. the beginning demonstrates slowness and patience — the intensification through the concluded wait of the longed-for reality, transforming light and magical kisses into open mouths discovering each other and witnessing the endearment that both offer — hairs, necks, shoulders and waists captured.

"you're the first to create a meaningful presence in my mind and heart. i want you to be the last one too. i love you, kincs (my treasure). i'm finally brave enough to demonstrate it with no fears." dominik's forearm covers your upper torso. your back against his chest, noses resting on each others. rejoicing at the miraculous, incomparable circumstance.

"i love you, drágám (my precious). you're finally mine and it was so fucking worth waiting." his whisper: the living proof of celestial existence.

"how blessed we are…" intertwined bodies, coalesced essences. solitary melodies turning into the sweetest and most complete symphony.

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jilyawards · 4 months ago

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The Jily Fandom Rec List 2024 is a compilation of Jily stories our readers want to keep an eye on for this year's awards.

OCTOBER

The Quidditch Captain's Secret (completed, 7.6k) by Finnicksarchive. Rated G.

Embarrassed at having caught a muggle cold, James Potter decides to weather through his illness alone. His loyal friends agree to keep his condition a secret, but his absence is quickly noted by none other than one Lily Evans. On her search to discover the truth about his seeming disappearance, Lily is confronted with a terrifying reality: she actually cares for the cocky quidditch captain. Eventually, Lily finds James in bad shape, and takes it upon herself to nurse him back to health.

The Clean Up Crew (WIP, 16.9k as of 31 October 2024) by @alittlebitofeverything23. Rated T.

There’s an unspoken rule about hosting a House party: if it’s your party, you’re in charge of cleaning up. Follow James and Lily throughout their years at Hogwarts via House parties, birthday bashes, Slug Club events, and more.

Simmer Until Ready (completed, 3.6k) by @kay-elle-cee. Rated T.

James Potter is not a healer. His is a potioneer—the Order of the Phoenix's lead potioneer, in fact. So when their top field fighter—Lily Evans—comes to him for treatment after a particularly rough mission, he helps the best way he knows how: a vial of freshly-brewed Skele-Gro and a dose of laughter. Written for Jily Week 2024 Day 4: Flip the Script

Stupid T-Shirts (completed, 5.5k) by @kay-elle-cee. Rated E.

The last night on a group vacation, Mary pushes everyone to engage in a tacky T-shirt swap before going out. Suggestive shirts, months of pining, and one particular tequila shot finally lead Lily to reach her breaking point. Drunken kisses can be dismissed and joked about, but this—this would be crossing a line they won’t be able to uncross.

You Know How To Ball, I Know Aristotle (completed, 6.8k) by @wearingaberetinparis. Rated M.

Now that the global superstar, Grammy-winning singer-songwriter Lily Evans and professional football player James Potter are together, they have to juggle the difficulties of a relationship in the public eye. Fresh off her World Tour, Lily Evans arrives at Wembley Stadium one year after James Potter first attended her show, to perform there for one final weekend before heading to the studio to record her next album. Her boyfriend, in the meantime, is off to Germany to play at the Euros for England. How will they ever make their relationship work when Lily is - so the press loves to imply - the least supportive WAG of the tournament?

Between the Desire and the Spasm (WIP, 31.8k as of 31 October 2024) by @uncertainwallflower. Rated M.

Trains are arguably the centre of everything. The sinew of civilisation for muggles and wizards alike. They are where all walks of life converge. Congregate. In synchronised traversal. Shared agony inflicted by the piercing screech of metal on metal, bonding all patrons aboard a carriage. And outside. A passing glimpse of someone you thought you’d never see again. Trains. They change everything.

Check out the previous months' recs too: January, February, March || April || May || June || July || August || September

NOMINATIONS OPEN TOMORROW AND WILL BE OPEN TILL NOVEMBER 22ND!

Get reading and submit your nominees for each category! The stories included in the rec list are NOT automatically nominated - if you read and enjoyed one of them, submit it in the categories you think fit it!

#jily fandom rec list 2024

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blackstarlineage · 6 days ago

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Black Parenting from a Garveyite Perspective: Raising a Physically, Mentally, and Economically Empowered Generation

From a Garveyite perspective, parenting is not just about raising children—it is about nation-building. Marcus Garvey believed that the survival and liberation of Black people depended on how the next generation was trained, educated, and prepared for self-reliance. This means that Black parents have a sacred duty to raise strong, disciplined, self-sufficient, and Pan-African-minded children who can continue the fight for global Black empowerment.

However, today, many Black families face challenges caused by centuries of systemic oppression, miseducation, and economic exploitation, making it difficult to pass down Garvey’s principles. The failure to properly prepare Black children for independence has led to cycles of dependency, confusion, and weakness that prevent true liberation.

This analysis will explore:

The role of physical discipline and structure in Garveyite parenting.

The importance of instilling self-reliance and economic independence in Black children.

Why Black parents must raise their children with an African-centered identity.

How modern influences (media, school systems, and Western ideologies) weaken Black parenting.

The Garveyite solution to rebuilding Black family structures for true empowerment.

1. The Role of Physical Discipline and Structure in Garveyite Parenting

Discipline, structure, and responsibility are essential in Garveyite parenting. A weak and undisciplined generation cannot lead a revolution, which is why Garvey believed in raising strong-willed, courageous, and self-controlled Black children.

A. Black Children Must Be Raised for Leadership, Not Servitude

The Western world conditions Black children to be obedient workers, not self-sufficient leaders.

Black parents must train their children to think critically, take responsibility, and reject laziness and dependency.

This requires strong parental guidance, discipline, and clear expectations from a young age.

Example: Garvey’s own mother, Sarah Jane Richards, raised him with strict discipline and a sense of duty, shaping him into a leader.

B. The Decline of Strong Parenting and the Rise of Western “Softness”

Many Black parents have adopted European parenting styles that promote excessive leniency, entitlement, and emotional weakness.

Modern Western culture discourages physical discipline, labelling it as “abuse,” while white society continues to use institutional discipline (prisons, policing, military training) to control Black populations.

Without strong discipline at home, Black children grow up unprepared for the real world and fall into criminal, economic, or social traps designed by white supremacy.

Example: Studies show that Black boys raised without firm discipline and strong father figures are more likely to end up in the prison system, dead, or economically disadvantaged.

Key Takeaway: Garveyite parenting requires structure, discipline, and responsibility—raising children to be leaders, not victims.

2. Teaching Black Children Self-Reliance and Economic Independence

Garveyism teaches that Black people must own and control their own wealth, yet many Black families fail to pass down economic education to their children.

A. Black Parents Must Teach Economic Survival Early

Most Black children are raised to become workers for white-owned businesses instead of entrepreneurs and investors.

Garveyite parenting requires that children learn financial literacy, business skills, and self-reliance from an early age.

Black parents must reject the culture of excessive consumerism (spending on designer brands, entertainment, and materialism) and teach wealth-building strategies.

Example: The Jewish, Chinese, and Indian communities prioritize economic education and family wealth-building, while Black communities often focus on short-term spending rather than long-term ownership.

B. The Lack of Black-Owned Institutions and the Generational Wealth Gap

Most Black children grow up without seeing Black-owned banks, businesses, or institutions, making them mentally conditioned to depend on white-owned systems.

Black parents must expose their children to successful Black entrepreneurs, investors, and leaders who prove that self-reliance is possible.

Example: Marcus Garvey built the Negro Factories Corporation and Black Star Line to show Black people they could own and operate their own industries—a lesson that must be passed down.

Key Takeaway: Black parents must prepare their children to be job creators, not job seekers. Economic independence starts at home.

3. Raising Children with an African-Centered Identity

Western education systems indoctrinate Black children to see themselves as inferior, which is why Garveyism demands that Black parents take control of their children’s cultural education.

A. The Importance of Teaching African History and Pride

Many Black children do not know their history beyond slavery because schools deliberately erase African civilizations, heroes, and contributions.

Black parents must counteract this by educating their children about African greatness, Pan-Africanism, and revolutionary Black leaders.

A child who knows their roots can not be mentally enslaved.

Example: Garvey established the Negro World newspaper and UNIA youth programs to educate Black children about their heritage and global struggle.

B. Rejecting European Beauty Standards and Cultural Conditioning

Many Black parents fail to teach their children to love their natural African features, leading to self-hate and colorism.

The media bombards Black youth with white beauty standards, making them reject their natural skin, hair, and African identity.

Black parents must actively reinforce self-love, African beauty, and pride in Blackness from childhood.

Example: The Natural Hair Movement and African fashion revival are examples of Black parents pushing back against European beauty norms.

Key Takeaway: If Black children do not know their history and identity, they will forever be slaves to Western definitions of success and beauty.

4. The Threat of Media and Western Education on Black Parenting

Garvey understood that Black children’s minds are being shaped by white-controlled institutions, including:

Schools that teach false history and discourage Black children from embracing their own culture.

Media that promotes negative stereotypes of Black people, leading to internalized self-hate and destructive behavior.

Social media and entertainment that push hyper-consumerism, promiscuity, violence, and superficial values.

Example: Many Black parents allow hip-hop, Hollywood, and white-washed education systems to raise their children instead of teaching them African-centered values at home.

Key Takeaway: Black parents must control the messages their children receive, or white supremacy will do it for them.

5. The Garveyite Solution to Black Parenting and Nation-Building

To reverse the decline of strong Black parenting, Garveyism provides the following solutions:

Establish Black homeschooling networks – Remove Black children from white-controlled education and teach them the truth.

Strengthen Black family structures – Promote stable Black marriages, fatherhood, and community-based child-rearing.

Teach economic empowerment from childhood – Give children real financial education, entrepreneurship skills, and wealth-building knowledge.

Reject Western culture’s negative influences – Control media exposure, reinforce African values, and protect Black children from harmful ideologies.

Raise Black children to be Pan-African revolutionaries – Train them to fight for Black self-determination, just as Garvey’s UNIA trained youth in leadership.

Final Takeaway: Garveyite parenting is about building warriors, not weaklings. If Black parents do not prepare their children for power, white supremacy will prepare them for failure.

Conclusion: Parenting is Nation-Building

Marcus Garvey’s vision of a strong, united Black nation depends on how Black parents raise their children. Without disciplined, self-reliant, and Pan-African-minded youth, Black people will remain at the mercy of white oppression.

The future of Black power begins at home.

As Garvey said:

"The man who is not able to develop and use his mind is bound to be the slave of the other man who uses his mind."

The time to reclaim Black parenting as a revolutionary act is NOW.

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